THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


Barnabetta 


Barnabetta 


By       ) 

Helen  R.  iMartin 

Author  of  "Tillie:  a  Mennonite  Maid," 
"The  Crossways,"  etc. 


New  York 

The  Century  Co. 

1914 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Copyright   1913.  by 
SMITH   PUBLISHING  HOUSE 


Published,  March,  1914 


College 
Library 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     INTRODUCING  THE   DREARY  FAMILY      ...        3 

II     MR.    DREARY   CONFIDES   IN   THE    SCHOOLMAS 
TER       15 

III  BARNABETTA  RECEIVES  A   SHOCK     ....      23 

IV  MR.   DREARY   PROPOSES 29 

V     THE   STEPMOTHER  ARRIVES 42 

VI  THE   STEPMOTHER  STARTS  REFORMS      ...  48 

VII  THE  CONFLICT  OF  WILLS 56 

VIII  THE  HEAD  OF  THE  HOUSE  ACTS        ....  65 

IX  A  DOMESTIC  LULL 73 

X  MRS.  DREARY  DEALS  WITH  THE  SITUATION   .  80 

XI  A  JAUNT  TO  TOWN 91 

XII     MRS.     DREARY    RESORTS    TO    HEROIC    MEAS 
URES       102 

XIII  ABEL  BUCHTER,  EDUCATOR 110 

XIV  THE   PRESIDENT  OF  STEVENS  RECEIVES  TWO 

LETTERS 118 

XV     BARNABETTA    AND    THE    PRESIDENT   OF    STE 
VENS     126 

•  XVI  INTRODUCING  MRS.   WINTHROP 138 

XVII  THEODORA  JORDAN 152 

XVIII  BARNABETTA  AT  COLLEGE 165 

XIX  BARNABETTA  IS  CALLED  TO  ACCOUNT         .      .  174 

XX  THE  LURE  OF  THEODORA 184 

XXI  BARNABETTA  AGAIN  BREAKS  THE  RULES        .  192 

XXII  HER  EVOLUTION  AT  COLLEGE 201 

XXIII  HER  SUMMER  AT  HOME        ....  .206 


Contents 


CHAPTEB  PAGE 

XXIV  HER  NEW  OUTLOOK 215 

XXV  CONFIDENCES 221 

XXVI  HER  RETURN  TO   STEVENS 225 

XXVII  BARRETTS    QUANDARY 233 

XXVIII  A  FUNERAL 241 

XXIX  MRS.  WINTHROP'S  TROUBLED  REFLECTIONS    .    248 

XXX  THEODORA  ACTS 257 

XXXI  COMMENCEMENT   DAY 261 

XXXII  BROTHER  AND   SISTER 270 

XXXIII  AT  THE  DANCE 275 

XXXIV  THE  APPEAL  TO   THEODORA 281 

XXXV  AN  AFTERNOON  CALL— AND  AN  ENCOUNTER   .    288 

XXXVI  ENTER,   MRS.   DREARY 298 

XXXVII  BARRETT  COMMITS  HIMSELF 304 

XXXVIII  BARRETT'S  STRUGGLE      . 309 

XXXIX  HE  TAKES  THE   PLUNGE 318 

XL  MRS.  WINTHROP   AND   BARNABETTA        .      .      .    327 

XLI  THE  FATE  OF  WOMAN 334 


Barnabetta 


Barnabetta 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCING   THE   DREARY   FAMILY 

MRS.  DREARY,  a  sentimentalist  though  the 
wife  of  a  Pennsylvania  "Dutchman,"  had 
named  her  daughter  from  a  combination  of  her  own 
and  her  husband's  names,  Barnaby  and  Etta — Barna 
betta.  It  had  been  her  last  "pretty  thought"  before 
her  death,  which  had  followed  almost  immediately 
upon  the  birth  of  the  baby-girl. 

Barnabetta,  however,  being  the  only  feminine  mem 
ber  of  the  family,  had,  at  a  tender  age,  been  called 
upon  to  bear  heavier  burdens  than  that  of  her  gro 
tesque  name.  It  was  when  she  was  only  thirteen 
years  old  that  her  father  decided  to  dismiss  the 
housekeeper  he  had  been  obliged  to  employ  since  his 
wife's  death,  and  take  his  little  daughter  from  the 
village  school  to  keep  house  for  him  and  her  two  elder 
brothers,  Jacob  and  Emanuel — and  this  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  what  was  known  in  the  village 
of  Reinhartz  Station  as  "well-fixed,"  having  a  com 
fortable  bank-account  which  every  year  he  was  able 
to  increase  from  his  big,  prosperous  tin-shop  that  ad- 

3 


Barnabetta 

joined  his  dwelling-house.  But  the  necessity  his 
wife's  death  had  imposed  upon  him,  of  "hiring,"  had 
been  the  most  poignant  phase  of  his  affliction. 

"I  hire  a  washwoman  yet  a  while  till  you're  more 
growed  a 'ready,  Barnabetta,"  he  told  the  child. 
"But  the  rest  part  of  the  work  you  kin  do  now.  I 
don't  keep  no  hired  girl  now  you  're  thirteen 
a  'ready. ' ' 

However  appalled  the  little  girl  may  have  felt  at 
this  decree,  she  did  not  demur.  When  Barnaby 
Dreary  announced  a  decision,  no  one  who  knew  him. 
ever  attempted  to  move  him  from  it.  And  certainly 
the  outcome  in  this  case  justified  him;  for  in  place 
of  the  slatternly,  wasteful  housekeeping  of  the  ' '  hired 
girl,"  Barnabetta  soon  learned  to  keep  things  tidy, 
to  cook  well,  to  manage  thriftily ;  and  the  weekly  wages 
of  the  hired  girl  were  saved — for  they  assuredly  did 
not  pass  to  Barnabetta. 

That  the  young  girl  just  budding  into  maidenhood 
grew  thin  and  listless  under  the  unceasing  toil  neces 
sary  to  achieve  these  results,  could  scarcely,  in  the 
eyes  of  a  man  like  Barnaby  Dreary,  weigh  against  the 
results  themselves. 

When,  on  one  occasion,  Barnabetta  being  then  six 
teen  years  old,  the  village  school-teacher,  Abel  Buch- 
ter,  took  the  liberty  of  warning  Mr.  Dreary  that 
his  girl  was  growing  up  dumm x  from  overwork 
and  from  being  denied  all  the  "pleasure-seeking" 

i  Stupid. 

4 


Introducing  the  Dreary  Family 

natural  to  youth,  he  was  told  to  "mind  to  his  own 
business. ' ' 

''Hard  work  keeps  girls  out  of  mischief  and  makes 
'em  hearty,"  Barnaby  argued. 

' '  But  with  as  much  in  bank  as  you  're  got,  Barnaby, 
you  have  no  need  to  work  your  girl  that  hard  that 
you  won't  even  leave  her  go  out  coastin'  still,  with  the 
other  young  folks,  till  her  evening  dishes  is  through 
all,  a 'ready.  She  used  to  be  the  smartest  scholar  I 
had  and  now,  I  tell  you,  she  's  gettin '  dumm ! ' ' 

"She  'd  oversleep  breakfast  time  if  I  left  her  run 
evenings. ' ' 

"You  leave  Jacob  and  Emanuel  go  out  every 
night." 

"Yes,  well,  they  don't  have  to  get  up  so  early  as 
what  Barnabetta  does.  Look-a-here,  Abel,  don't  you 
come  tryin'  to  make  up  to  our  Barnabetta — I  ain't 
leavin'  her  keep  comp'ny  with  no  fellah!  Us,  we 
need  her  at  home,  me  and  the  boys.  Fur  thirteen 
years  I  had  to  hire  and  pay  wages,  and  do  you  think 
now  when  at  last  I  got  a  girl  old  enough  to  house- 
keep  fur  me,  I  'm  a-goin'  to  leave  her  go  git  married 
right  aways  and  me  go  back  to  hirin'  yet?  Well,  I 
guess  anyhow  not!  So  you  just  leave  our  Barnabetta 
be,  Abel!" 

Had  Mr.  Dreary  not  been  a  school-trustee  of  Bein- 
hartz  Station,  Abel  would  have  delighted  in  defying 
him;  for  in  spite  of  the  life  Barnabetta  led,  she  was 
blooming  out  into  a  wondrous,  flower-like  girlhood. 

5 


Barnabetta 

Not  that  she  was  beautiful — no  one  could  have  called 
her  that.  Her  skin  was  dark,  almost  sallow;  her 
figure  slight,  almost  thin ;  but  from  the  softness  of  her 
meditative  eyes  and  the  sweetness  of  her  mouth,  to 
the  dainty  shapeliness  of  her  foot,  she  was  so  wholly 
and  utterly  feminine,  so  appealingly  womanly,  that 
Abel,  who  had  known  her  since  her  birth,  found  to  his 
astonishment  that  no  other  maiden  had  ever  seemed 
to  him  so  lovely,  so  desirable,  though  all  the  buxom 
beauties  of  the  village  had  long  been  throwing  them 
selves  at  his  head;  for  in  spite  of  his  tall  length  of 
lank  leanness,  Abel's  slight  superiority  to  his  fellow- 
villagers,  in  education  and  in  ideals,  and  his  always 
wearing  a  collar  and  necktie,  had  ever  made  him, 
to  the  damsels  of  Eeinhartz,  an  object  of  romantic  sen 
timent. 

"I  always  did  think,  Barnaby,"  Abel  persisted, 
"that  the  reason  Missus  died  for  you  was  because 
you  wouldn't  ever  hire  for  her  or  leave  her  go  on 
company  any.  She  just  did  n't  have  any  more  spunk 
left  to  get  her  strength  back  when  Barnabetta  was 
born." 

"Ach!  Why,  after  our  Jakey  was  born,  Missus 
never  no  more  spoke  nothin'  to  me  about  goin'  on 
comp'ny  or  pleasure-seekin '. " 

"Yes,  for  the  good  reason  that  till  that  time  you 
had  her  so  good  trained  a 'ready,  she  knew  it  was  no 
use  to  ask  anything  off  of  you !  And  now  Barnabetta 
is  getting  just  so  indifferent  like  her  mother — she 

6 


Introducing  the  Dreary  Family 

don't  even  want  any  young  pleasures!"  said  Abel, 
who  was  smarting  under  his  own  failure  to  rouse  the 
girl  to  any  interest  in  himself.  "And,  mind  you, 
Barnaby,  when  a  young  girl  don't  want  pleasures, 
she  's  getting  awful  dumm!" 

"Well,  so  long  as  she  ain't  too  dumm  to  cook  three 
good  meals  a  day  fur  me  and  the  boys,  and  keeps  her 
good  health  and  is  contented  not  to  run  any  with  the 
other  young  folks — nor  with  you,  Abel — why,  to  be 
sure,  I  don't  see  what  I  need  to  worry  about.'* 

Barnabetta  was  fully  aware,  with  a  complete  in 
difference  to  the  fact,  that  Abel  would  like  to  "keep 
comp'ny"  with  her  and  that  her  father  prohibited 
it.  She  was,  therefore,  faintly  surprised  one  autumn 
afternoon  as  she  moved  about  the  kitchen  "making 
supper,"  to  overhear  her  father  on  the  back  porch 
urging  Abel,  who  had  strolled  over  with  him  from  the 
tin-shop,  to  "come  on  in  the  kitchen  and  eat  along." 

1 '  It  would  mebby  make  more  work  for  Barnabetta, ' ' 
Abel  demurred,  though  evidently  eager  to  accept  the 
unwonted,  indeed  unaccountable,  invitation. 

"What  's  a  couple  more  dishes  to  wash?  Come  on 
in!  I  want  to  speak  somepin  wery  important  to  you 
then.  Around  five  o'clock  or  so  we  eat  and  it 's  near 
that  now. ' ' 

"All  right.     Then  I  will  once." 

Abel's  schoolhouse  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  one 
long,  sloping  street  which  comprised  the  village  of 
Eeinhartz,  while  the  other  end  of  it  was  bounded  by 

7 


Barnabetta 

the  hotel  and  the  post-office.  The  brick  or  frame 
houses  standing  between  these  two  limits  made,  for 
the  most  part,  some  pretension  to  prettiness,  especially 
those  which  stood  back  from  the  street.  But  they 
presented  one  uniform,  inhospitable,  uncompromising 
front  of  tightly  locked  shutters.  A  stranger  walking 
through  the  village  would  at  first  glance  have  supposed 
it  must  be  uninhabited;  but  the  well-kept  lawns  and 
flower-beds  would  speedily  have  transformed  this  im 
pression  into  the  conviction  that  the  entire  popula 
tion  of  the  place  was  gone  from  home  for  the  day  on 
an  excursion  or  a  picnic.  For  in  Reinhartz  the  kitchen 
was  the  only  part  of  the  house  used  during  week-days. 
Parlors  were  entirely  consecrated  to  the  sacred  Sab 
bath  and  to  funerals. 

A  few  minutes  after  Mr.  Dreary  had  come,  with  the 
school-teacher,  into  the  kitchen  where  Barnabetta  was 
working,  the  two  grown  sons  of  the  family,  Jacob  and 
Emanuel,  also  arrived  for  the  evening  meal, — Eman- 
uel,  the  elder,  coming  in  from  the  tin-shop  in  which 
he  was  salesman,  and  Jacob  having  just  returned  from 
his  day's  work  of  driving  the  stage-coach  twice  over 
the  eight  miles  between  Reinhartz  and  Lebanon. 

The  entire  family  now,  with  the  exception  of  Barna 
betta,  gathered  with  their  guest  about  the  supper- 
table  which  was,  as  always,  laid  in  the  kitchen,  the 
adjoining  well-furnished  dining-room  being,  accord 
ing  to  the  village  custom,  kept  always  closed  and  dark 
ened,  although  to  have  been  without  the  adornment  of 

8 


Introducing  the  Dreary  Family 

a  dining-room  and  "a  dining-room  suit"  would  greatly 
have  lowered  a  family  in  the  village  social  scale. 

Jacob  and  Emanuel  looked  as  surprised  as  was  Abel 
himself  at  finding  him  at  their  father's  table,  for  they 
knew  how  warily  the  head  of  the  house  guarded  their 
sister  from  any  possible  wooers. 

Barnabetta,  moving  about  the  table  to  wait  upon 
the  four  men,  listened  with  but  vague  attention  to 
their  talk.  Her  deliberate,  graceful  movements,  the 
far-away  gaze  of  her  eyes,  her  slow,  soft,  infrequent 
speech,  gave  her  that  habitual  air  of  detachment  from 
her  environment  which  had  often  brought  from  her 
father  the  reproach  that  she  acted  ''like  a  person  with 
ether  in  her." 

"You  don't  take  no  interest,"  he  would  com 
plain. 

""What  is  there  to  take  an  interest  in?"  the  over 
worked  girl  would  dully  ask. 

Abel,  helping  himself  from  the  pyramid  of  hot 
cakes  Barnabetta  had  placed  on  the  table,  remarked, 
' '  I  certainly  am  guessing,  Barnaby,  what  you  're  want 
ing  to  speak  to  me  then!" 

"It  's  some  important.     I  '11  tell  you  then." 

"Here,  Barnabetta,"  Emanuel  ordered,  holding  out 
the  empty  butter  dish,  "the  butter  's  all!"2 

"Hot  cakes  does,  now,  make  the  butter  all  awful 
quick  a 'ready,"  Mr.  Dreary  shook  his  head  ruefully, 
as  Barnabetta  carried  the  dish  away  to  refill  it.  ' '  And 

2  All  gone. 

9 


Barnabetta 

butter  comes  so  high,  too !    Butter  and  eggs  is  raising 
every  day!" 

"Yes,"  said  Emanuel,  "it  would  come  cheaper  to 
keep  a  cow  and  make  our  butter. ' ' 

"Who  'd  milk  and  churn?"  casually  inquired  Abel. 

' '  Who  ? ' '  repeated  E  manuel,  puzzled.  * '  Well,  ain  't 
we  got  a  female  keepin '  house  here  ?  What  fur  do  you 
ask  who?" 

Emanuel  was  a  great  overgrown  youth  whose  easy 
place  in  his  father's  tin-shop  was  calculated  to  make 
him  a  confirmed  loafer.  He  and  his  brother  Jacob 
shared  their  father's  view  as  to  the  clear  intention  of 
Providence  in  the  creation  of  woman. 

"You  don't  think  she  's  got  enough  to  do  already, 
heh?"  asked  Abel,  "cooking  and  washing  and  ironing 
and  cleaning  up  for  you  three  men-folks?" 

"  Ach,  Abel,"  laughed  Jacob,  biting  into  a  huge  slice 
of  "molasses  bread,"  "when  you  git  married  oncet, 
We  won't  hear  you  talkin'  then  all  the  time  about  a 
woman's  overworkin'  herself!  Not  when  it  's  fur  you 
she  does  it!" 

"Barnabetta  's  got  it  good  towards  what  some  has 
it,"  remarked  Emanuel. 

"Yes,  I  guess  anyhow!"  affirmed  Mr.  Dreary. 
"Her  Mom  had  always  babies  to  tend  as  well  as  all  the 
housework.  Barnabetta  can  anyways  always  git  her 
night's  rest." 

"It 's  wonderful  good  of  you,  Barnaby,  to  leave  her 
sleep  all  night!"  said  Abel. 

10 


Introducing  the  Dreary  Family 

Barnabetta,  moving  about  the  table  with  food  and 
cups  of  coffee,  showed  no  sign  of  paying  any  heed  to 
the  conversation. 

"A  body  'd  think,  Abel,  to  hear  you,  that  you  was  in 
favor  of  this  here  crazy  talk  you  kin  read  in  the  noos- 
papers  about  women's  wotin'  yet!"  declared  Mr. 
Dreary. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  but  what  it  would  be  a  good 
thing,"  Abel  courageously  affirmed,  though  he  knew 
that  in  the  expression  of  such  a  radical  sentiment  he 
endangered  his  position,  held  for  ten  years,  as  district 
teacher  of  Reinhartz.  "Why  shouldn't  females  vote, 
Barnaby?" 

"Ach,  Abel,  now  you  're  just  talkin'  to  show  off!" 
expostulated  Mr.  Dreary.  "To  be  sure,  a  woman  's 
all  right  in  her  place.  There  ain  't  nothin '  nicer  than 
a  woman,  I  '11  give  you  that  much,  Abel.  A  woman, ' ' 
he  conceded  magnanimously,  "is  wery  nice  indeed — 
in  her  place.  But  there  I  'm  fur  stoppin'.  What 
them  English  had  ought  to  do  with  them  wild  Suffra- 
gettys  is  to  have  such  a  whippin'-post  fur  'em.  That 
would  soon  stop  their  carryin'-on!  That  's  what  I  'd 
have  if  I  was  in  power  over  there.  In  a  month's  time 
it  would  stop  'em  a 'ready!" 

"Yes,  well,  but,"  Abel  said,  "England,  it  's  a  civil 
ized  nation,  Barnaby. ' ' 

"Them  Suffragettys  don't  act  much  civilized!" 
scoffed  Emanuel. 

"No,  nor  I  don't  call  a  nation  much  civilized  where 
11 


Barnabetta 

holds  to  Free  Trade  and  Repy-sock-racy ! ' '  maintained 
Mr.  Dreary. 

"Ach,"  said  Abel,  "you  're  all  ver-huddled!  You 
mean  reciprocity  and — " 

''Will  you  have  more  coffee,  Abel?"  Barnabetta 's 
lifeless  voice  here  inquired  at  his  side. 

"I  've  had  an  ample  sufficiency,  Barnabetta,"  Abel 
softly  answered,  a  gleam  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  up 
into  her  face.  ' '  Thank  you  kindly,  Barnabetta. ' ' 

"That 'sail  right,  Abel." 

She  moved  away,  and  Abel,  to  cover  his  agitation, 
made  a  perfunctory  remark  to  Jacob  at  his  left. 

"Many  passengers  to-day  on  your  'bus,  Jake?" 

"Ach,  middling  few." 

"Roads  good?" 

"Middling.  I  'm  wonderful  bothered,  though,  with 
them  automobiles — they  go  over  the  bridge  so  hoggish, 
they  're  damagin'  it — and  one  of  these  here  days  that 
there  bridge  is  a-goin'  to  bust  in!" 

"Here,  Barnabetta,"  Emanuel  again  ordered  his 
sister,  holding  towards  her  an  empty  saucer,  "bring 
me  another  helpin'  of  that  there  rice  puddin'." 

"It  's  all,"  said  Barnabetta.  "I  only  made  one 
helping  'round  and  you  've  all  had." 

"I  'm  afraid,  Barnabetta,"  said  Abel  regretfully, 
"mebby  me  being  here  unexpected,  I  eat  your  help 
ing,  heh?" 

"That's  all  right,  Abel." 

"  I  'm  awful  sorry,  Barnabetta ! ' ' 
12 


Introducing  the  Dreary  Family 

"It  makes  nothin',"  said  her  father.  "She  kin  do 
with  molasses  bread  or  whatever. ' ' 

"Say,  Barnabetta,"  Jacob  announced,  "you  're  to 
iron  my  Sunday  pants  right  aways  then  till  you  've 
eat  your  supper  a  'ready. ' ' 

' '  Goin '  to  see  your  girl,  Jacob  ? ' '  asked  Abel. 

"Whether  I  am?"  Jacob  repeated  the  question. 
"Well,  then,  if  I  am?"  he  demanded  defiantly. 

"It  ain't  anything  to  me,  I  'm  sure,"  answered  Abel. 
"Only  if  it  's  that  Suse  Darmstetter  you  fetched  from 
the  meeting  Sabbath  evening,  she  won't  ever  iron  your 
Sunday  pants  for  you!" 

"You  leave  me  manage  my  wife  myself, 
Abel!" 

' '  You  're  welcome  to.  But  if  it  's  Suse  Darmstetter, 
Jake,  she  '11  manage  you." 

"I  '11  take  care  of  that  there  all  right,  Abel.  I  guess 
it  would  take  more  'n  Suse  Darmstetter  to  henpeck  one 
of  us  Drearys ! ' ' 

"Yes,  us  Drearys  ain't  so  easy  henpecked!"  Mr. 
Dreary  retorted  derisively,  his  robust  frame  and  fat 
face,  with  its  suggestion  of  meanness  in  the  small, 
closely  set  eyes,  a  sufficient  corroboration  of  his  state 
ment. 

"Jacob,"  said  Barnabetta 's  low  voice  as  she  stood 
at  her  brother's  side  to  fill  his  glass  with  water,  "did 
you  fetch  me  that  ten-cent  magazine  along  I  asked  you 
to  get  me  in  Lebanon?" 

"Naw!  What  do  you  take  me  fur,  Barnabetta, 
13 


Barnabetta 

askin'  me  to  waste  my  time  in  town  runnin'  after  such 
a  magazine  yet ! ' ' 

"You  ain't  to  spend  any  fur  such  foolishness,  Bar 
nabetta,"  her  father  objected.  "Nor  to  waste  your 
time  with  such  magazines." 

"I  knowed  Pop  would  n't  leave  you  have  it,"  added 
Jacob. 

Barnabetta  moved  away  without  answering.  Abel 
made  a  mental  memorandum  of  an  errand  he  would 
do  next  time  he  went  to  town — he  would  buy  a  dozen 
magazines  and  slip  them  secretly  into  Barnabetta 's 
hands. 

"Now,  Abel,"  Mr.  Dreary  said,  pushing  back  his 
chair  and  rising,  "if  you  're  done,  come  on  out  on  the 
back  porch  oncet.  Emanuel, ' '  he  admonished  his  stal 
wart  son  as  authoritatively  as  he  would  have  spoken 
to  a  child,  "you  hurry  on  over  to  the  shop;  I  can't 
come  till  I  speak  somepin  particular  to  Abel. ' ' 

Emanuel,  heavy  and  indolent,  rose  to  obey.  Jacob, 
also  rising,  sent  a  curious  glance  after  his  father  and 
the  village  teacher  as  together  they  moved  out  to  the 
back  porch. 

"Don't  forget  my  pants,  Barnabetta,"  he  reminded 
his  sister  as  he,  too,  left  the  room. 

Barnabetta  seated  herself  at  the  cluttered  table  to 
take  her  supper  in  solitude.  Her  absent,  dreamy  eyes 
showed  no  least  interest  in  the  mysterious  confidence- 
meeting  that  was  going  on  on  the  back  porch  between 
her  father  and  Abel  Buchter. 

14 


CHAPTER  II 

ME.  DREARY  CONFIDES  IN  THE  SCHOOLMASTER 

SEATED  in  two  huge  rocking-chairs,  in  the  seduc 
tive,  warm  September  twilight,  Mr.  Dreary  and 
Abel  contemplated  a  wide  area  of  vegetable  gardens 
behind  the  village  houses,  while  the  elder  man  pro 
ceeded  to  open  up  his  soul  to  the  younger. 

''It  come  over  me,  here  a  couple  weeks  back,  Abel, 
that  I  feel  fur  gettin'  married.  I  feel  fur  it  somepin 
wonderful ! ' ' 

"Married!  You,  yet!  Well,  if  you  ain't!  At 
your  age,  Barnaby!" 

"I  ain't  just  so  old  neither!  Fifty-five.  What 's 
fifty-five?" 

"Who  's  the  wonderful  fortunate  lady?"  Abel  in 
quired  with  heavy  sarcasm. 

' '  I  ain  't  picked  out  one  yet. ' ' 

' '  What  ?  By  gosh !  What  started  you  up,  then,  to 
think  about  getting  married  ? ' ' 

"Two  things,"  answered  Barnaby,  counting  them 
off  on  his  fingers ;  "first,  seein'  our  Jacob  runnin'  with 
Suse  Darmstetter;  second,  the  trouble  I  got  keepin' 
you  and  other  fellahs  from  makin'  up  to  our  Barna- 

15 


Barnabetta 

betta.  If  I  had  a  wife  oncet,  Barnabetta  she  could 
keep  comp  'ny  and  git  married  with  you  or  whoever. ' ' 

' '  Then  did  you  want  to  tell  me  this  evening  I  could 
go  ahead  and  keep  company  with  Barnabetta?"  Abel 
chokingly  inquired. 

"Not  so  fast!"  Barnaby  hastily  checked  his  eager 
ness.  "I  tole  you  I  ain't  any  lady  picked  out  yet, 
did  n  't  I  ?  You  're  not  to  make  up  to  Barnabetta  till 
I  'm  settled  a 'ready,  mind  you!  Anyways,  she  's  full 
young  yet — only  seventeen  and  wery  childish. ' ' 

"What  do  you  want  off  of  me,  then?"  Abel  asked 
doggedly. 

"To  help  me  pick  out  some  lady,  Abel,  that  would 
suit." 


"Yes;  you  're  so  well  acquainted  over  in  Ephrata, 
I  conceited  mebby  you  'd  know  some  party  over  there 
that  might  suit  me  pretty  good.  I  don't  want  to 
choose  some  one  here  where  I  am  raised. ' ' 

"I  know  a-plenty  that  might  suit  you.  But  how 
about  you  suiting?" 

' '  Ach,  don't  git  funny !  Now  leave  me  tell  you  what 
I  do  want.  I  want  you  to  give  me  an  interduction  to 
some  rich  lady.  A  lady  that  owns  some  property, 
Abel,  or  some  stocks,  mebby.  And  one  that  ain't  got 
no  other  beau,  fur  I  'm  too  old  to  try  to  cut  out  an 
other  fellah." 

"But  what  would  such  a  lady  marry  you  fur,  Bar 
naby?" 

16 


Mr.  Dreary  Confides  in  the  Schoolmaster 

"I  ain't  particular  that  she  's  such  a  wonderful 
good-looker,  Abel,  so  long  as  she  's  a  good  housekeeper 
and  has  money." 

"Yes,  well,  but,"  commented  Abel  thoughtfully, 
"how  will  Jacob  and  Emanuel  like  it?" 

"I  ain't  concerned  if  they  like  it." 

"And  what  do  you  expect  Barnabetta  to  do  with 
such  a  stepmother?" 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  that  after  I  'm  all  settled  nice, 
Barnabetta  she  kin  go  git  married?  Not  till  I  'm 
settled,  though,  mind  you!" 

"But  how  do  you  expect  Barnabetta  and  the  step 
mother  will  hit  it  off  till  Barnabetta  gets  married  ? ' ' 

"  Ach,  that  's  neither  here  nor  there !  Do  you  know 
any  such  a  lady  fur  me,  Abel  ? ' ' 

"I  think  mebby  I  could  pick  you  out  one." 

"I  conceited  that  mebby  you  could.  That 's  why 
I  spoke." 

"There  's  a  party  at  Reading  might  suit,"  said 
Abel  thoughtfully. 

"Is  there?"  said  Barnaby  eagerly.  "How  well- 
fixed  is  she?" 

"Well,  here  last  Saturday  I  was  at  Reading  and  the 
Secretary  of  the  Young  "Women's  Christian  Associa 
tion  gave  me  an  interduction  to  a  lady  that  's  just 
what  you  're  looking  for,  Barnaby." 

"Now  you  don't  mean  it!  Mebby  you  're  guyin' 
me,  heh?" 

' '  No,  I  ain  't.  And,  lucky  for  you,  this  lady  of  which 
17 


Barnabetta 

I  referred  to,  is  after  just  what  you  're  after — a  well- 
fixed  gentleman. ' ' 

"That  ain't  what  I  'm  after,"  said  Barnaby  face 
tiously.  "Say,  Abel,  did  she  tell  you  she  was  lookin' 
out  fur  a  well-fixed  gentleman  ? ' ' 

"The  Secretary  of  the  Y.  W.,  etcetery,  she  told  me. 
The  lady  had  come  there  to  the  Y.  W.  and  told  them 
that,  being  now  tired  of  living  alone,  she  wanted  to  get 
settled.  Well,  they  didn't  rightly  understand  what 
she  meant  (some  of  those  city-folks  are  just  that  slow !) 
and  they  got  her  a  good  place  for  such  '  general  house 
work.'  But  to  be  sure  that  ain't  what  she  meant  by 
'settled'!  Why,  she  's  got  a  thousand  dollars  a  year 
in  her  own  right !" 

"Hi!"  Barnaby  exploded,  looking  apoplectic  un 
der  the  shock  of  such  a  dazzling  bait.  "A  thousand 
dollars  a  year  yet ! ' ' 

"That's  what!" 

"Go  ahead!"  exclaimed  the  prospective  bridegroom. 

"So  the  lady  explained  to  Miss  Evans,  the  Secre 
tary,  that  she  didn't  want  to  hire  out,  she  wanted  to 
get  settled.  And  Miss  Evans  asked  her, '  Settled  how, 
where,  why,  when?' — and  would  you  believe  it,  Bar 
naby,  it  took  the  lady  a  while  yet  to  make  Miss  Evans 
understand  she  wanted  an  interduction  to  a  gentle 
man  that  would  like  to  get  married?  Well,  you  see, 
Miss  Evans  she  knew  me  this  while  back  already  and 
she  plagues  me,  still,  when  I  go  to  town,  why  I  don't 
get  married.  So  she  interduced  me  to  the  lady." 

18 


Mr.  Dreary  Confides  in  the  Schoolmaster 

"And  why,"  demanded  Barnaby  in  quick  suspicion, 
"didn't  you  take  such  a  chance  when  it  come  your 
way?" 

'  The  woman  's  old  enough  to  be  my  mother !  She  's 
your  age,  Barnaby.  If  I  can  get  Barnabetta,  you  're 
welcome  to  the  old  party!" 

"When  kin  you  give  me  an  interduction  to  her, 
Abel?" 

"Take  you  over  to  Beading  Saturday  evening  if 
you  want.  I  '11  'phone  to  Reading  to  Miss  Evans  to 
tell  the  lady  she  can  expect  us — if  you  '11  pay  for  the 
telephone." 

' '  Ach,  yes,  if  I  must. ' ' 

"All  right  then." 

"You  didn't  tell  me  yet  what 's  the  lady's  name?" 

"Miss  Miller  's  her  name." 

"Miller.  Miller  's  a  common  name,  ain't? 
There  's  Millers  here  in  Eeinhartz  a 'ready.  Say, 
Abel,  don't  you  think  that  between  this  and  Saturday 
some  other  fellah  will  mebby  be  makin'  up  to  her? 
I  tell  you  I  'm  too  old  to  go  cuttin'  out  anybody." 

"But  mebby  when  you  see  her,  you  won't  feel  for 
getting  married  to  her. ' ' 

' '  Them  thousand  dollars  a  year  would  make  a  body 
overlook  a  good  bit,  Abel. ' ' 

"But  look-a-here,  Barnaby,  do  you  expect  she  's  a- 
goin'  to  pour  her  thousand  dollars  right  into  your 
paws?  It  's  hers.  Times  are  some  changed  since  you 
had  a  wife.  I  hardly  believe  this  lady  would  think 

19 


Barnabetta 

that  just  because  she  kep'  your  house  for  you  and 
went  by  your  name,  you  'd  a  right  to  take  her  money 
off  of  her.  On  the  contrary,  she  'd  expect  you  to  spend 
on  her,  so  long  as  she  worked  for  you.  That  's  how  it 
goes  these  days,  Barnaby.  You  '11  mebby  get  awful 
fooled  if  you  don't  look  out !" 

"When  a  woman  's  married  it 's  her  husband's 
place  to  handle  the  money,"  Barnaby  affirmed  con 
clusively. 

"All  right.  If  you  think  you  can  manage  it  that 
way." 

"I  certainly  ain't  afraid  I  can't  manage  my  own 
wife,"  Barnaby  retorted  scornfully. 

"All  right,  if  you  think.  I  '11  take  you  over  then 
Saturday  and  give  you  an  interduction  to  her.  The 
rest  is  up  to  you.  You  can  see  what  you  can  do." 

"I  guess,"  said  Barnaby  hesitatingly,  "you  '11  ex 
pect  me  to  pay  the  twenty-five  cents  car-fare  over  for 
you  too?" 

"That  wouldn't  be  any  more  'n  right." 

"Well,  if  I  must." 

"Say,  Barnaby,  you  better  have  a  boquet  along 
with  you  for  the  lady, ' '  Abel  advised. 

"A  boquet?  Wouldn't  that  look  some  soft, 
Abel?" 

' '  I  guess  she  'd  expect  you  to  look  soft,  seeing  what 
you  're  after. ' ' 

"But  it  's  too  late  in  the  season  fur  a  boquet;  there 
ain't  no  flowers  bloomin'  now." 

20 


Mr.  Dreary  Confides  in  the  Schoolmaster 

"There  's  hot-houses  in  town,  ain't  there?" 

"Whether  there  's  hot-houses?  Yes,  well,  but! 
Flowers  out  of  a  hot-house  I  never  bought  yet." 

"You  better  fetch  some  along,"  Abel  strongly  ad 
vised.  "It  will  help  a  good  bit." 

"You  think?" 

"Yes,  I  think." 

"Well,  then,  if  I  must,"  sighed  Barnaby.  "Now, 
then, ' '  he  added,  slowly  rising  from  his  chair, ' '  I  guess 
I  '11  have  to  be  gittin'  over  to  the  shop.  Say,  Abel!" 

"Heh?" 

"Don't  you  go  on  in  to  Barnabetta  now!  I  ain't 
leavin'  her  keep  comp'ny  till  I  'm  sure  of  this  here 
lady.  Pass  me  your  promise,  Abel." 

Abel  hesitated.  But  realizing  that  in  dealing  with 
Barnaby  Dreary,  discretion  was  the  better  part  of 
valor,  he  reluctantly  gave  the  promise. 

As  the  younger  man  walked  pensively  through  the 
quiet  village  street  to  the  hotel  where  he  lived,  he 
wondered  whether,  if  the  spinster  who  wanted  to  "get 
settled"  proved  to  be  "such  a  blamed  fool"  as  to 
marry  stingy,  fat  old  Barnaby  Dreary,  Barnabetta 's 
situation  under  the  circumstances  would  have  the 
happy  effect  of  making  her  turn  to  him.  He  hardly 
dared  hope  that  it  would,  so  passively  unresponsive 
she  always  was  to  his  ardor. 

"To  be  sure,  she  's  only  a  child  yet,  as  her  Pop  says, 
and  full  young  to  think  about  getting  married — 
though  other  girls  of  her  age  do  think  about  it.  Bar- 

21 


Barnabetta 

nabetta  's  an  awful  queer  girl.  I  don't  rightly  know 
her.  Nobody  does,  I  guess.  Sometimes  I  think  she  's 
got  her  own  secret  thoughts  behind  that  dumm  way  she 
has !  I  wish,  though,  she  had  a  little  more  spunk  than 
what  she  's  got!  She  wouldn't  have  to  take  all  she 
takes.  Now,  here  this  evening,  why  couldn't  she  say 
to  Jacob,  'If  you  couldn't  bring  me  a  ten-cent  maga 
zine,  I  can't  iron  your  pants.'  But  no,  she  '11  go  iron 
his  blamed  pants !  Well,  to  be  sure  if  she  did  n  't,  her 
Pop  would  get  so  harsh,  I  guess  mebby  it  's  the  easiest 
way  out  for  her  just  to  do  what  they  tell  her.  And 
when  there  's  a  stepmother  there  yet,  no  doubt  it  '11 
go  harder  than  ever  for  Barnabetta.  Then  mebby  she 
will  take  notice  to  me  a  little.  Land  sakes,  would  n 't 
she  know  something  different  if  ever  7  had  the  chance 
to  take  care  of  her!"  concluded  Abel  warmly. 


22 


CHAPTER  III 

BARNABETTA   RECEIVES  A   SHOCK 

BARNABETTA,  sitting  in  the  kitchen  a  few  hours 
later,  darning  and  mending  some  clothing  of  her 
father's  and  brothers',  by  the  light  of  a  lamp  on  the 
table,  did  not  glance  up  as  her  father,  at  nine  o  'clock, 
having  closed  the  tin-shop,  came  over  to  the  house  and 
walked  into  the  kitchen.  Had  she  looked  up,  she 
might  have  been  moved  to  some  surprise  at  the  un 
wonted  aspect  of  embarrassment  he  wore  as,  roving 
aimlessly  about  the  kitchen,  he  tried  to  get  up  courage 
to  tell  his  daughter  something  which  it  was  proving 
not  at  all  easy  to  tell.  He  himself  was  scarcely  less 
surprised  than  Barnabetta  would  have  been,  at  find 
ing  himself  abashed  before  his  own  child  whom  he  had 
bullied  all  her  life.  But  Barnabetta,  bending  over 
her  sewing,  saw  nothing  of  his  perturbation,  oblivious, 
as  usual,  to  everything  about  her.  The  deadening 
monotony  of  her  external  world  had  dulled  her  very 
senses  to  it.  She  moved  through  her  daily,  unchang 
ing  routine  like  a  wound-up  machine,  all  the  force 
and  fire  of  her  fervent  soul  turned  inward  to  feed 
upon  itself  and  thereby  either  destroy  itself  or — a 

23 


Barnabetta 

far-off  possibility  indeed — lift  itself  far  above  the 
common  range. 

"I  got  to  speak  somepin  to  you,  Barnabetta,"  Mr. 
Dreary  at  last  took  the  plunge  as,  pausing  in  his  rest 
less  pacing  of  the  floor,  he  sat  down  heavily  in  front 
of  his  daughter. 

Barnabetta 's  sewing  dropped  into  her  lap  and  she 
raised  absent  eyes  to  his. 

"It  '11  surprise  you  some  mebby,  what  I  got  to  say. 
Leastways  it  surprised  Abel  Buchter. ' ' 

Barnabetta  waited  placidly. 

"Abel  he  thinks  I  'm  some  old  to  be  thinkin'  of  it. 
But  I  'm  only  fifty-five.  What 's  fifty-five?" 

Barnabetta  manifested  no  interest  in  the  conun 
drum. 

"Well,"  said  her  father  stoutly,  "I  'm  gettin'  mar 
ried,  mebby." 

And  now  the  girl  showed  signs  of  life.  Her  gaze 
came  back  from  afar  and  fixed  itself,  with  a  puzzled 
contraction  between  the  brows,  upon  her  father 's  face. 

"What  did  you  say,  Pop?" 

"I  said  mebby  I  'm  gettin'  married  oncet." 

Barnabetta  looked  at  him,  speechless. 

"I  can't  give  you  no  particulars  yet,  Barnabetta. 
This  here  's  only  to  prepare  you  a  little. ' ' 

The  girl,  still  inarticulate,  continued  to  look  at  him. 

"You  see,"  he  said  encouragingly,  "when  I  'm  nice 
settled,  you  kin  keep  comp'ny  with  Abel  or  whoever. 
There  's  plenty  ivants  to  set  up  with  you." 

24 


Barnabetta  Receives  a  Shock 

Barnabetta,  regarding  him  as  though  just  making 
his  acquaintance,  made  no  comment. 

"Abel  Buchter  he  wanted  to  keep  eomp'ny  with 
you  this  good  while  a 'ready.  I  tole  him  to-night  I  'd 
give  him  dare  to  set  up  with  you  when  I  was  all  set 
tled.  Not  till,  though !  To  be  sure,  after  I  'm  settled 
you  kin  easy  be  spared." 

"Pop,"  Barnabetta  at  last  spoke,  "so  kind-hearted 
as  what  Abel  is,  I  'd  be  sorry  for  you  to  give  him  false 
hopes ;  for  I  will  not  keep  comp  'ny  with  him. ' ' 

It  was  Mr.  Dreary's  turn  now  to  stare  in  astonish 
ment.  Scarcely  within  his  memory  had  he  ever  heard 
his  daughter  assert  herself  to  the  point  of  affirming, 
"I  will  not." 

"What  have  you  agin  Abel  Buchter?" 

"Nothing.  But  I  won't  keep  eomp'ny  with  any 
man. ' ' 

"Ach,  that 's  just  talk.  You  never  kep'  eomp'ny 
yet,  so  you  don't  know  nothin'  about  it.  Oncet  Abel 
has  set  up  with  you  a  couple  of  times,  you  '11  be  as 
man-crazy  as  the  rest  of  the  girls. ' ' 

"I  will  never  marry,"  Barnabetta  serenely  stated, 
but  in  a  tone  of  finality  that  sounded  strange  to  her 
father's  ears,  accustomed  to  her  unvarying  acquies 
cence  to  his  word. 

"Such  foolish  talk!"  he  said  impatiently.  "What 
makes  you  conceit  that,  I  'd  like  to  know,  heh?" 

"I  don't  like  men-folks.     They  kreistle1  me." 

i  Disgust. 

25 


Barnabetta 

"Hah?  Ach,  well,  you  '11  soon  get  over  that  fool 
ishness  !  You  will  have  to.  Fur  oncet  I  fetch  a  wife 
here  to  housekeep  fur  me,  to  be  sure  you  '11  have  to 
soon  go  and  git  married,  Barnabetta." 


"  'Why'!     Do  I  need  two  to  keep  my  house?" 

"Do  you  mean,"  the  girl  asked  slowly,  a  long,  ear 
nest  gaze  upon  her  father's  face,  "that  you  will  not 
keep  me  here  when  you  bring  home  a  wife  ?  '  ' 

"Well,  fur  a  year  mebby,  till  you  've  picked  out  a 
man.  Not  longer.  What  would  you  do  here  ?  There 
ain't  work  here  fur  two;  and  you  're  growed  up  —  you 
have  to  work." 

"There  's  plenty  of  work  for  two,  Pop." 

"You  do  it  all." 

"I  don't  think  you  will  find  any  one  else  that  can  — 
or  will." 

"Foolishness!"  he  scoffed. 

"But,  Pop,"  she  asked,  a  dazed  look  coming  into 
her  eyes,  "where  can  I  go?" 

'  '  I  tole  you  you  're  to  git  married.  '  ' 

4  '  But  I  said  I  would  not  do  that.     I  will  not  marry.  '  ' 

"What  else  kin  you  do?  You  know  well  enough," 
he  reproached  her,  "you  ain't  enough  educated  to 
git  the  lower  school  to  teach.  '  ' 

"No,  I  ain't  educated.  I  ain't  anything  but  your 
housekeeper.  '  ' 

"Yes,  you-  're  too  dumm  to  do  anything  but  git 
married.  Abel  he  says,  too,  you  're  dumm." 

26 


Barnabetta  Receives  a  Shock 

"He  says?" 

"Yes,  often  a 'ready." 

"There  's  one  thing  I  could  do,"  she  said  hesitat 
ingly,  looking  more  and  more  dazed  at  this  sudden 
and  unexpected  crumbling  of  her  world  from  under 
her,  "I  could  hire  out — if  you  and  Jacob  and  Emanuel 
wouldn't  have  a  shamed  face  to  leave  me  do  that." 

' '  That  would  make  too  much  talk — with  me  as  well 
fixed  as  what  I  am  yet !  No,  there  ain  't  nothing  you 
kin  do  but  git  married." 

"I  will  not  do  that." 

"Ach,  well,"  he  concluded,  rising  abruptly,  "you  '11 
git  over  such  a  crazy  notion.  Anyways,  the  lady  ain 't 
said  'Yes'  yet.  Time  enough  when  she  's  here  oncet, 
fur  to  settle  your  case. ' ' 

He  took  a  lamp  from  the  mantelpiece,  lighted  it  and 
went  upstairs  to  his  room. 

Barnabetta  remained  long  over  her  sewing,  too 
stirred  out  of  her  customary  orbit  to  think  of  sleeping. 
She  was  confused  with  the  new  ideas  so  suddenly 
forcd  upon  her.  What,  she  wondered,  could  be  the 
inducement  to  any  woman  to  marry  her  father  ?  Why 
did  women  want  to  marry  anyway?  The  life  of  her 
native  village  made  marriage  appear  to  her  like  the 
gateway  to  a  bondage  far  heavier  and  more  hopeless 
than  that  under  which  she  herself  had  always  lived. 
Over  and  over  again  had  she  seen  the  bloom  and 
brightness  of  a  bride  fade  in  a  few  years  to  the  hag 
gard  dullness  of  the  overworked,  over-prolific  slave 

27 


Barnabetta 

of  matrimony ;  and  though  she  had  never  in  all  her  life 
asserted  her  own  will,  yet  there  was,  deep  down  in  her 
buried  soul,  a  smoldering  force  that  had  concentrated 
upon  one  resolve — no  man  should  ever  take  her  for 
his  wife.  Barnabetta  had  never  had  any  "rights," 
she  had  never  claimed  any;  but  an  unshakable  con 
viction  possessed  her — born  of  she  knew  not  what — 
that  she  did  have  an  inalienable  right  to  refuse  to 
give  her  soul  and  body  into  the  keeping  of  a  man. 
The  bare  thought  of  it  was  so  horrible  to  her  that  she 
had  come  to  think  of  men  as  of  a  lower  and  coarser 
order  of  creation.  She  could  work  for  them,  serve 
them ;  but  never,  while  she  had  any  shred  of  right  to 
herself,  should  one  of  them  come  nearer. 

She  felt  a  vague  pity  for  her  prospective  stepmother. 

' '  She  '11  have  it  harder  than  what  I  have  it ;  for  Pop 
will  be  her  husband!" 

To-night  as  she  faced  the  realization  that  the  three 
brawny  men  for  whom  for  more  than  five  years  she 
had  expended  all  her  girlhood's  vitality,  would,  as 
soon  as  they  no  longer  needed  her,  begrudge  her  a 
place  in  their  home,  her  wonder  at  the  strange  selfish 
ness  of  the  sex,  only  added  strength  to  her  deeply 
rooted  resolution  that  never  should  a  male  creature 
bind  her  life  to  his  in  the  indissoluble  bonds  of  matri 
mony  ;  for  in  Barnabetta 's  primitive  world  people  still 
married  for  life. 


28 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.    DREARY   PROPOSES 

HALF-PAST  eight  of  the  following  Saturday 
evening  found  Mr.  Dreary,  somewhat  to  his 
consternation,  stranded  alone  with  Miss  Miller,  the 
lady  who  desired  to  ''get  settled" — seated  beside  her 
on  a  sofa  in  her  own  neat  little  parlor ;  for  Abel  Buch- 
ter,  having  brought  him  to  the  spinster's  house  and 
performed  the  ceremony  of  introduction,  had  imme 
diately,  and  in  Mr.  Dreary's  opinion,  ignominiously, 
departed,  leaving  him  high  and  dry  in  the  lady 's  hands 
to  settle  his  case  as  best  he  might.  So  long  as  he  had 
been  fortified  by  Abel's  savoir-faire  in  meeting  the 
peculiar  situation  into  which  he  had  gotten  himself, 
he  had  felt  confident  enough.  But  now,  abandoned 
to  his  fate,  his  soul  trembled — not,  as  might  be  sup 
posed,  in  awe  of  the  fair  one  herself,  but  in  the  fear 
that  the  rich  prize  (her  income)  brought  thus  within 
his  reach,  might  yet,  by  some  inadvertency  on  his  part, 
escape  him. 

He  looked  perfectly  unnatural  to-night  in  his  ' '  Sun 
day  clothes";  he  wore  them  too  seldom  to  have  ac 
quired  the  habit  of  them;  and  the  little  "boquet"  of 
six  carnations  which  he  had  stiffly  carried  on  entering, 

29 


Barnabetta 

clenched  in  one  hand  like  a  pistol,  had  lent  him  an  air 
more  aggressive  than  conciliatory.  The  carnations 
did  indeed  stand  for  a  battle  waged  with  Abel  and  the 
florist,  for  Mr.  Dreary  had  stoutly  resisted  Abel's 
ipse  <Mxit  that  he  recklessly  squander  seventy-five 
cents  on  a  whole  dozen  of  them  and  he  had  hotly  pro 
tested  against  the  florist's  charge  of  forty  cents,  in 
stead  of  thirty-five,  for  a  half  dozen.  And  when,  on 
their  arrival  at  the  small  two-storied  brick  house  on  the 
outskirts  of  Reading,  where  the  lady  lived,  her  gush 
ing  reception  of  him  and  Abel  made  it  seem  probable 
that  he  would  not  have  needed  to  go  to  this  expense 
to  win  his  way  with  her,  he  felt  sorely  injured. 

"I  might  have  done  just  as  good  without  'em,"  he 
thought  resentfully,  as  he  watched  the  thin,  elderly, 
but  gaily  attired  woman  bustle  in  and  out  of  the  par 
lor  to  put  the  flowers  in  water. 

Seated  now  on  the  sofa  beside  her,  he  felt  far  from 
equal  to  the  situation.  It  was,  however,  characteristic 
of  him  that,  in  spite  of  his  perturbation  and  suspense, 
his  small,  sharp  eyes  should  be  busy  in  appraising 
every  significant  detail  of  his  hostess  and  her  surround 
ings.  He  saw  quite  as  much  to  condemn  as  to  com 
mend.  In  fact,  had  it  not  been  for  that  substantial 
income,  he  would  have  felt  discouraged,  her  parlor 
was  so  luxuriously  furnished  in  striped  plush,  crayon 
portraits  framed  heavily  in  gilt,  and  an  upright  piano 
draped  at  one  end  with  a  fringed  scarf ;  and  her  tall, 
bony  person  was  so  superfluously  decorated  with  lace, 

30 


Mr.  Dreary  Proposes 

ribbon,  bracelets,  rings,  a  watch-chain  and  an  ancestral 
portrait  in  a  brooch  on  her  flat  bosom.  If  she  accepted 
him  he  would  certainly  persuade  her  to  sell  all  this 
"junk"  in  her  parlor  and  let  him  invest  the  money 
which  it  would  bring,  for  he  felt  it  would  be  too  pain 
ful  to  him  to  see  that  much  capital  standing  around 
idle  in  the  "front  room"  at  Reinhartz  Station. 

As  for  her  extravagant  apparel — well,  once  she  was 
his  wife,  she  wouldn't  "have  the  dare  to  spend  so 
much  at  the  clo'es." 

The  maiden  lady  herself,  though  scrawny  and,  to 
Mr.  Dreary's  taste,  ugly,  was  evidently,  judging  from 
the  great  friendliness  of  her  manner,  a  very  kind- 
hearted  person  and  would  no  doubt  take  pains  to  make 
him  and  the  boys  comfortable.  Also,  things  looked  as 
though  she  were  a  tidy  and  capable,  if  not  an  econom 
ical,  housekeeper.  On  the  latter  point  he  felt  ex 
tremely  dubious.  "Would  such  a  "fancy"  person  be 
able  to  make  money  go  as  far  as  Barnabetta  did? 

"She  '11  have  to  learn  to,  that  's  all,"  he  resolved. 

c '  I  understand,  Mr.  Dreary,  that  you  are  a  widower ; 
that  you  have  loved  and  lost!"  she  remarked  sympa 
thetically,  with  an  air  and  tone  that  impressed  poor 
Barnaby  as  disconcertingly  high-toned. 

"Yes,  my  wife  she  died  fur  me  this  good  while  back 
a 'ready." 

"Ah,"  sighed  Miss  Miller,  "I  can  see  it  at  you  that 
Grief  has  dwelt  with  you,  that  Affliction  has  been  your 
companion ! ' ' 

31 


Barnabetta 

"Yes,"  responded  Mr.  Dreary  uncomfortably, 
"yes,  I  felt  wery  worse  when  she  died  fur  me.  But 
it  's  near  eighteen  years  now.  My  first  grief  was  over 
this  long  time  a 'ready." 

"Eighteen  years!  You  have  been  faithful  to  her 
memory  that  long !  I  fear  very  few  of  your  sex  have 
such  constancy,  Mr.  Dreary ! ' ' 

"You  think?"  said  Mr.  Dreary,  pleasantly  flat 
tered. 

"I  know  the  world,  Mr.  Dreary.  None  better. 
And  I  can  read  men.  Your  appearance  does  not  de 
ceive  me — I  can  see  it  at  you  that  you  are  a  diamond 
in  the  rough.  The  Bible  says,  you  know,  that  oft  we 
entertain  an  angel  unawares  and  there  oft  beats  in 
the  breast  of  a  humble  servant  a  heart  of  purer  gold 
than  is  e'er  found  in  lords  and  ladies!" 

"The  Bible  says,  does  it?  I  ain't  wery  Bible-read, 
I  'm  sorry  to  say.  To  be  sure, ' '  he  humbly  admitted, 
"I  know  I  ain't  no  pretty  man;  but  then  I  don't 
make  no  demands  in  that  line  on  you." 

"Not  to  brag  myself  up,  Mr.  Dreary,  I  used  to  be 
pretty.  That  was  before  I,  like  yourself,  had  loved 
and  lost.  For  though  still  unmarried,  I  was  once  en 
gaged.  He  died  of  a  bron&^ical  cough  and  I  have  al 
ways  revered  his  memory.  I,  too,  you  see,  have  been 
faithful.  And  I  do  think  that  takes  from  one's  looks 
— to  live  solitary,  sad  and  sorrowing  through  long, 
constant  years.  That  's  why,  Mr.  Dreary,  I  am  no 
longer  as  pretty  as  what  I  once  was  in  days  gone  by. 

32 


Mr.  Dreary  Proposes 

Believe  me,"  she  protested,  lifting  a  wrinkled,  jew 
eled  hand,  ' '  I  am  not  inviting  contradiction. ' ' 

"I  'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Dreary,  rising  nobly  to  the 
occasion,  "if  you  ain't  as  pretty  as  some,  you  're  wery 
good.  And  what,"  he  demanded  with  an  inspiration 
that  astonished  himself,  "is  beauty  without  good 
ness?" 

"Well,"  Miss  Miller  responded  a  bit  testily,  "good 
ness  somewhat  tempered  with  beauty  might  be  more 
acceptable  to  both  of  us — but  alas,  in  this  life  it  's  not 
what  we  want,  Mr.  Dreary,  but  what  we  can  get,  that 
has  to  satisfy  us. ' ' 

"Wery  true,  wery  true,"  Mr.  Dreary  solemnly 
nodded,  feeling  that  the  tone  of  the  discourse  called 
for  a  religious  mien. 

"And  now,  Mr.  Dreary,"  Miss  Miller  announced, 
"not  to  occupy  the  entire  evening  with  conversation, 
would  you  like  for  me  to  entertain  you  with  a  little 
Vocal?  I  've  studied  Vocal  for  nearly  a  year  with 
Professor  Schmidt.  Two  lessons  a  week,  fifty  cents 
per." 

"  'Fifty  cents  per?'  You  mean  you  paid  a  dollar 
a  week  fur  near  a  year  fur  just  to  learn  to  sing  yet?" 
gasped  Mr.  Dreary. 

"Yes,"  admitted  Miss  Miller  with  pride.  "Ex 
pensive,  true.  But,  as  Professor  Schmidt  often  re 
marked,  'What  is  life  without  artistic  expression?'  ' 

"And,"  breathed  Mr.  Dreary,  pointing  to  the  es- 
thetically  draped  piano,  "can  you  work  it,  too?" 

33 


Barnabetta 

"Oh,  yes,  I  play  several  classics  and  all  my  own 
accompaniments. ' ' 

"Let  's  have  a  sample  of  the  '"Wocal — at  fifty 
cents  per,'  "  Mr.  Dreary  feebly  requested. 

Miss  Miller  obligingly  rose  and  went  to  the  piano. 
Mr.  Dreary  sat  rigidly  on  the  sofa,  his  eyes  glued  to 
her  as  she  gracefully  and  elegantly  ran  her  jeweled 
fingers  over  the  keys. 

"  If  I  ever  again  get  engaged, ' '  she  remarked  as  she 
played,  "I  know  what  I  shall  ask  of  my  Intended  for 
a  wedding-present." 

"A  wedding-present,  heh?" 

' '  Yes.     A  baby-grand. ' ' 

"But,"  faltered  Mr.  Dreary,  "you  ain't  just  so 
young,  neither,  no  more — about  fifty,  I  take  it?  Not 
that  I  want  to  speak  impolite  to  you — " 

"Oh!"  shrieked  Miss  Miller,  abashed,  putting  her 
hand  to  her  face.  "A  baby-grand  piano,  Mr.  Dreary ! 
— with  three — shall  we  say  ? — limbs. ' ' 

"Oh,  is  that  what  you  mean?" 

"Yes.     For  a  wedding-present." 

"How  much  do  they  come  at?" 

"You  can  get  one  for  nine  hundred  dollars." 

Mr.  Dreary  rose.  "Miss  Miller,"  he  said  sadly, 
but  firmly,  "  I  'm  sorry  I  took  up  your  time.  Me,  I  'm 
too  common  for  you,  I  guess. ' ' 

"Not  at  all,  Mr.  Dreary.  Now  don't  disappoint 
ment  me  as  others  have  done!  Sit  down  and  let  me 
sing  you  'A  Child's  Unfinished  Prayer.'  ' 

34 


Mr.  Dreary  Proposes 

Mr.  Dreary  sat  down.  But  the  display  of  her  mar 
velous  accomplishments  as  she  sang  through  her  reper 
toire— " It  'a  a  Lonely  World  Without  You,"  "That  's 
How  I  Need  You,"  "When  I  Marry  the  One  I 
Love,"  and  so  forth — only  added  to  his  discourage 
ment. 

"Now,  then,"  she  said,  coming  again  to  his  side  on 
the  sofa,  "tell  me  all  about  your  dear  children,  Mr. 
Dreary.  I  am  so  anxious  to  know  them  now  that  I 
have  seen  and  admired  their  father!  I  'm  sure  I 
shall  love  them  and  I  trust  they  will  love  me." 

"They  're  pretty  well  growed.  Barnabetta,  the 
youngest,  is  near  eighteen  a 'ready.  But,"  he  shook 
his  head  despondently,  "she  would  seem  wonderful 
dumm  to  you,  so  high-toned  as  what  you  are  yet ! ' ' 

"The  dear  child!  I  do  love  to  contemplate  the 
young  girl 

'  Standing  with  reluctant  feet 
Where  the  brook  and  river  meet.' 

— don't  you,  Mr.  Dreary?" 

"Well,"  he  faltered  miserably,  "I  don't  know  as 
I  do." 

' '  I  feel  intuitively,  Mr.  Dreary,  that  your  daughter 
— what  was  that  pretty  name  by  which  you  made  ref 
erence  to  her?" 

"Barnabetta — after  me  and  her  Mom — Barnaby 
and  Etta," 

"How  touching!  I  feel  instinctively,  Mr.  Dreary, 
35 


Barnabetta 

that  dear  Barnabetta  and  I  are  going  to  love  each  other 
tenderly. ' ' 

"Barnabetta  ain't  never  got  much  to  say  fur  her 
self." 

"Her  nature  is  as  yet  latent,  eh?  I  shall  do  my 
utmost  to  awaken  it;  to  help  her — as  Professor 
Schmidt  often  remarks — to  find  herself.  The  one 
thing  we  must  do,  Professor  says,  is  to  find  ourselves. 
He  insists  upon  it." 

"He  does,  does  he?  Well,"  said  Mr.  Dreary,  be 
wildered,  "that  is  something  that  I  never  had  to  do 
yet — find  myself.  I  can't  remember  ever  losin'  my 
self." 

"Poetic  language,"  Miss  Miller  disposed  of  the 
question.  "Is  Barnabetta  joyful  at  the  thought  of 
my  coming  into  your  home,  Mr.  Dreary  ? ' ' 

Mr.  Dreary  clutched  the  arm  of  the  sofa.  This  was 
taking  him  for  granted!  "Whether  she  's  'joyful'? 
She  did  n  't  make  any  when  I  tole  her. ' ' 

"Make  any — ah,  fuss?  Feelings  too  deep  for 
words! — at  the  thought  of  having  at  last  a  long-lost 
mother!" 

"But,"  Mr.  Dreary  stammered,  "do  you  feel  sure, 
Miss  Miller,  that  you  'd  suit  me?" 

"That  's  your  modest  way  of  putting  it!" — she 
tapped  him  playfully  with  a  fan  she  held.  ' '  You  are 
trying  to  get  up  courage  to  ask  me  if  you  suit  me — 
eh  ? "  she  coyly  demanded.  ' '  There,  there,  I  won 't  be 
naughty  and  tease  you!  Mr.  Dreary,  if  it  was  only 

36 


Mr.  Dreary  Proposes 

you,  I  might  hesitate.  But  when  I  think  of  those  three 
motherless  children — for  eighteen  years  without  a 
mother's  love  and  guidance — the  call  is  too  strong — 
my  whole  woman's  nature  responds!  Mr.  Dreary,  I 
accept  your  offer." 

"But  I — I  couldn't  afford  such  a  grand  baby  or 
whatever. ' ' 

"We  '11  waive  that  then" — she  waved  her  fan  illus 
tratively. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Dreary  resignedly,  relaxing  his 
clutch  on  the  sofa  and  sinking  back  limply  among  the 
cushions,  "all  right,  Miss  Miller." 

"Juliet.     You  can  call  me  Juliet." 

' '  That  's  your  first  name,  is  it  ? " 

' '  Not  to  deceive  you,  my  name  is  Susan.  But  being 
'sensitive  to  the  poetry  of  sound,'  as  Professor  Schmidt 
says,  I  just  took  the  name  Juliet.  Shakespeare,  you 
know.  You  can  call  me  Juliet." 

"Yes,  if  I  can  used  myself  to  it.  I  ain't  familiar 
with  that  there  name. ' ' 

"It  's  very  rare,  true.  And  very  soft  and  tender. 
I  consider  it  harmonious  to  my  character. ' ' 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Dreary,  finding  here  something  to 
hold  by,  ' '  I  always  did  take  to  soft-hearted  ladies  like 
you." 

"Oh,  Barnaby!" 

' '  Well,  I  did,  Miss  Miller— Jool-yet ! ' ' 

"Well,  so  far  as  that  goes,  Barnaby,  I  always  took 
to  men  with  black  hair.  I  always  told  our  folks, 

37 


Barnabetta 

'Don't  say  blond-complected  man  to  me!  A  black- 
haired  man  is  more  manly,'  I  said." 

"You  think?" 

"Yes,  I  do!" 

' '  Well,  in  this  here  business  of  marryin ',  a  man  kin 
only  take  his  chances ! ' ' 

"And  a  woman,  too,"  she  agreed. 

"Heh?    Well,  mebby.     I  guess  mebby." 

"Yes,  indeed!"  she  asseverated.  "Now  tell  me, 
Barnaby,  when  will  you  bring  dear  Barnabetta  in  town 
to  see  me  ?  I  do  so  yearn  to  take  her  to  my  heart ! ' ' 

' '  She  ain  't  much  fur  goin '. ' ' 

' '  She  is  a  dear  little  home-body,  is  she  ?  So  devoted 
to  her  Papa/" 

"I  never  left  her  go  on  eomp'ny." 

"You  tried  so  hard  to  shield  her  from  the  pitfalls 
in  the  way  of  the  motherless  girl?  Ah,  yes,  I  see! 
And  now  I  can  relieve  you  of  that  care,  Barnaby.  A 
mother 's  watchful  eye  shall  now  protect  her. ' ' 

"I  tole  her  that  till  I  'm  oncet  settled  a 'ready,  she 
dare  keep  eomp'ny." 

' '  Innocent  pleasures  of  youth,  true.  She  shall  have 
me  to  share  them  with  her,  for  my  heart  will  ever  be 
young. ' ' 

"Yes,  well,  but,"  said  Mr.  Dreary  dubiously,  "if 
you  'd  both  go  gaddin'  how  would  the  work  git 
done?" 

"Oh!"  laughed  Juliet,  tapping  him.  with  her  fan, 
"you  poor,  dear  men-folks! — so  helpless  without  us 

38 


Mr.  Dreary  Proposes 

women  to  make  you  comfy!    You  want  us  clustered 
close  about  you  all  the  time,  don't  you?" 

Mr.  Dreary  found  it  not  unpleasant  to  be  purred 
over  like  this  by  the  possessor  of  a  big  income. 

When,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  Juliet  took  him 
out  to  her  little  dining-room  and  treated  him  to  de 
licious  cake  and  root-beer  of  her  own  making,  his 
spirits  rose  even  to  sportiveness  and  he  made  a  joke. 

"You  will  come  again  not  later  than  next  Saturday 
evening,  won't  you? — if  you  live?"  she  asked  him. 

"If  I  live?  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  anyways  live  till  I 
die  a 'ready !"  he  playfully  returned. 

She  uttered  a  genteel  little  shriek  of  laughter — 
whereupon  they  both  laughed  until  the  tears  stood  in 
their  eyes. 

The  repast  over,  Mr.  Dreary,  unaccustomed  to  late 
hours,  had  to  think  about  getting  home. 

"Your  big  clock  there,  it  says  only  five  o'clock — 
don't  it  go  or  whatever?"  he  inquired,  pointing  to 
a  grandfather's  clock  that  ornamented  one  corner  of 
the  dining-room. 

"Oh,  no,  it  never  went  since  I  bought  it."  She 
drew  her  gold  watch  from  her  belt  and  held  it  out  to 
him.  "Ten  o'clock.  Must  you  start  so  early?" 

"It  takes  so  long  till  I  'm  home  a 'ready.  But  what 
fur  do  you  keep  a  clock  that  won't  tell  time  yet?  Bet 
ter  sell  it,  heh  ?" 

"It  's  an  ancestral  heirloom,  Barnaby.  I  paid 
sixty  dollars  for  it." 

39 


Barnabetta 

"Sixty  dollars  yet — fur  a  clock  that  's  not  fur  use, 
only  fur  fancy  that  way!  Yi,  yi,  yi!"  Mr.  Dreary 
shook  his  head  as  he  rose  and  followed  her  trailing 
skirts  into  the  parlor. 

Juliet  laughed  gaily.  "Yes,  I  do  have  elegant 
tastes.  It  's  very  fortunate,  is  n  't  it,  that  I  have  also 
the  wherewithal  to  indulge  them?  My  tastes  are  very 
sensitive." 

"You  ain't  used  to  layin'  by  much,  I  guess?"  he 
cautiously  inquired  as  he  picked  up  his  hat  from  the 
marble-topped  center-table. 

"Fortunately,  circumstances  spare  me  that  sordid 
necessity,"  she  returned. 

It  was  with  this  parting  shaft  piercing  his  soul  that 
he  left  her. 

On  his  homeward  ride  he  felt  as  though  he  had  been 
heavily  drinking,  so  insecure  seemed  the  foundations 
of  his  being.  That  a  woman  so  accomplished,  so  rich, 
so  fashionable,  should  have  consented  to  marry  him 
as  soon  as  he  could  be  ready  to  take  her  to  his  home ; 
that  he,  on  his  part,  should  have  consented  to  wed  a 
lady  of  such  madly  extravagant  habits  and  of  such 
"sensitive  tastes,"  well,  look  at  it  as  you  would,  it 
was  a  risky  plunge. 

Yet  he  thought,  with  a  cocky  pride,  of  the  wonder 
of  his  daughter  and  sons  when  he  should,  a  few  weeks 
hence,  bring  this  paragon  of  elegance  to  Reinhartz 
Station  to  preside  over  his  home. 

' '  Talk  about  your  Four  Hundred ! "  he  chuckled. 
40 


Mr.  Dreary  Proposes 

"It  's  good  fur  her,  though,  that  she  's  a-goin'  to 
have  a  husband  to  teach  her  some  sense  about  money," 
he  reflected.  "Oncet  she  's  Mrs.  Dreary,  she  '11  have 
to  git  over  them  sensitive  tastes!" 


41 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    STEPMOTHER   ARRIVES 

THREE  weeks  later  the  coy  bride  was  brought 
out  to  Reinhartz  to  take  her  place  as  mistress 
of  Barnaby  Dreary's  home. 

It  had  been  with  scarcely  less  than  her  accustomed 
apathy  that  Barnabetta  had  prepared  to  receive  her 
stepmother.  In  so  far  as  she  was  stirred  at  all  by 
the  great  event,  it  was  with  wonder  at  the  woman, 
that,  of  her  own  choice,  she  should  give  up  her  free 
dom  to  come  out  here  to  serve  her  father  and  his 
sons. 

But  from  the  moment  the  bride  entered  the  house, 
the  girl's  astonishment  over  her — a  woman  of  a  sort 
so  entirely  outside  her  experiences,  dressy,  sprightly, 
of  a  wonderful  manner  of  speech,  overwhelmingly 
friendly — did  actually  at  last  rouse  her  out  of  her 
self. 

Never  before  within  Barnabetta 's  memory  had  any 
one  kissed  her.  Unacquainted  in  her  circumscribed 
sphere  with  such  a  thing  as  insincerity,  she  accepted 
with  the  gullibility  of  a  child  the  woman's  lavish 
endearments.  From  the  instant  of  that  first  kiss, 
given  as  her  stepmother  gushingly  greeted  her,  there 

42 


The  Stepmother  Arrives 

awakened  in  Barnabetta's  mind,  pleasure,  wonder,  a 
new-born  interest.  She  hung  upon  every  word  ''Ju 
liet"  spoke,  and  followed  with  fascinated  eyes  every 
movement  she  made. 

It  was  five  o  'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the  newly- 
married  coupled  arrived  at  the  plain,  comfortable, 
framehouse,  set  back  a  few  yards  from  the  village 
street  and  adjoining  the  tin-shop.  Supper  was  served 
almost  immediately  and,  to  honor  the  occasion,  it  was 
set  out  in  the  seldom  used  dining-room. 

But  when,  upon  their  gathering  about  the  table, 
Mrs.  Dreary  saw  that  no  place  was  laid  for  Barna- 
betta,  who  expected  to  wait  upon  them,  she  simply 
refused  to  sit  down  without  her  and  insisted  upon  a 
place  being  laid  beside  her  own. 

She  overflowed  with  approval  and  delight  in  every 
thing — the  dear,  quaint  house,  her  dear  "sons  and 
daughter,"  the  delicious  supper. 

"Ah,  this  is  truly  a  Itome  to  me,  a  shelter  from  life's 
rude  vicissitudes!"  she  said  feelingly  as,  sitting  op 
posite  her  husband,  she  viewed  his  family,  the  heavy, 
silent  sons,  the  sweet,  shy  young  girl.  "And  what  is 
life  without  a  home?" 

"And  what  is  home  without  a  Mother?"  added 
Mr.  Dreary  with  what  he  felt  to  be  great  aptness. 

"True,  Barnaby,  love!  And  in  exchange  for  the 
home  you  open  to  me,  I  give  to  you,  my  dearest  and 
my  dears,"  she  said,  discriminating  between  her  hus 
band  and  her  adopted  olive-branches,  "of  the  rich, 

43 


Barnabetta 

warm  motherhood  so  long  slumbering  unawakened  in 
my  being!" 

Barnabetta,  thrilled  to  the  heart  by  such  beautiful 
words,  gazed  with  glowing  eyes  upon  the  plain  face 
at  the  head  of  her  father 's  table. 

"So  long  have  I  been  lonely  and  love-hungry!" 
said  the  new  wife.  "And  now  to  have  so  many  dear 
ones  to  cherish!  Such  an  abundance  of  riches!" 
Her  soulful  glance  moved  about  upon  them  all  and 
came  back  to  rest  graciously  upon  Jacob  and  Emanuel, 
who  stared  open-mouthed  at  such  unaccustomed 
speech — terms  of  endearment  and  caresses  being  un 
known  among  the  Pennsylvania  Germans. 

"Especially,"  Juliet  continued,  her  jeweled  hand 
patting  Barnabetta 's  shoulder,  "this  dear  child.  Not 
only  shall  we  be  mother  and  daughter,  my  dear;  we 
shall  also  be  little  playmates,  shall  we  not?" 

"  'Playmates?'  "  Barnabetta  questioned,  puzzled. 

' '  Even  so,  my  dear.  I  hope  to  share  not  only  your 
girlish  griefs,  but  also  your  youthful  joys." 

Jacob,  looking  scornful,  turned  his  eyes  to  his  plate, 
and  Emanuel  followed  his  example.  But  to  Barna 
betta,  habituated  to  somberness  in  her  home,  this 
airy  volubility  seemed  like  a  breath  from  heaven. 

"Another  cup  o'  coffee !"  Jacob  gruffly  pronounced, 
shoving  his  cup  across  the  table  to  his  sister;  and 
Barnabetta  rose  at  once  to  bring  the  coffee  from  the 
kitchen. 

Jacob  received  it  from  her  without  comment,  but 
44 


The  Stepmother  Arrives 

as  she  was  returning  to  her  own  place,  Mrs.  Dreary, 
playfully  tapping  her  stepson  on  the  head,  prompted 
him  with,  ' ' Thank  you,  little  sister !  Don't  forget  the 
pretty  manners,  son!" 

Jacob  flushed  and  scowled  and  hung  his  head  low 
over  his  plate.  But  when  a  moment  later  Emanuel 
wanted  his  cup  refilled,  it  became  manifest  that  the 
hint  given  to  Jacob  had  not  been  lost. 

' '  Saddy, "  1  he  awkwardly  muttered  as  he  received 
his  coffee. 

' '  Chesterfield ! ' '  delightedly  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dreary. 
' '  Emanuel,  you  are  a  gentleman !  Nothing  so  appeals 
to  me  as  pretty  manners  in  a  man.  I  was  born  too 
late — with  my  romantic  disposition  I  should  have  lived 
in  the  days  of  Chivalry." 

"Yes,  well,  but  us  we  're  wonderful  common  peo 
ple,"  Mr.  Dreary  remarked.  "I  guess  you  could  tell 
it  at  me  the  first  time  you  seen  me,  Jool-yet,  heh?" 

' '  It  was  not  apocryphal,  my  love !  But  at  least  you 
did  not  play  the  gay  deceiver.  You  revealed  the  worst 
at  once." 

"More  bread,"  Mr.  Dreary  addressed  his  daughter, 
indicating  the  empty  bread-plate  with  a  twirl  of  his 
thumb. 

"You  poor  child!"  Mrs.  Dreary  called  after  the 
girl's  departing  figure. 

"Yes,  she  could  eat  more  comfortable  if  she  waited 
till  we  was  through  all,"  said  Mr.  Dreary. 

i  Thank  you. 

45 


Barnabetta 

"After  this,"  said  his  wife,  "to  avoid  the  interrup 
tion  to  our  table-conversation,  we  will  have  the  coffee 
on  the  table  and  enough  bread  cut  to  last  through  the 
repast. ' ' 

But  the  head  of  the  house  objected  to  this.  "If 
you  cut  so  much  bread  and  it  ain't  all  eat,  it  wastes 
still." 

"Better  waste  bread,  dear  Husband,  than  waste 
that  which  is  of  higher  worth — our  table-conversation ; 
not  to  speak  of  the  comfort  of  one  of  our  dear  circle. ' ' 

Mr.  Dreary  did  not  reply.  "A  body  must  give  her 
a  little  more  time,"  he  thought,  "to  used  herself  to 
our  common  ways." 

After  supper  he  and  Emanuel  repaired  to  the  tin- 
shop  and  Jacob  strolled  down  to  the  "hotel"  to  loaf 
and  gossip;  and  Barnabetta  was  left  alone  with  the 
new  mistress  of  the  house. 

But  just  before  Jacob  left,  he  managed  to  whisper 
a  word  of  warning  to  his  sister. 

"Don't  you  be  so  dumm  as  to  leave  her  take  you 
in  with  all  that  there  guff!  She  's  just  workin'  you — 
like  what  she  worked  Pop  to  git  him  to  marry  her — 
such  a  dried-up  old  raisin  as  what  she  is  yet !  A  bed- 
slat!" 

Barnabetta  shrank  back  at  such  irreverence  towards 
one  she  felt  to  be  so  much  above  them  all.  "I  'm 
wondering,"  she  said,  her  quiet  gaze  upon  her 
brother's  face,  "how  could  such  a  lady  have  brang 
herself  to  marry  Pop." 

46 


The  Stepmother  Arrives 

"She  's  come  to  her  time  of  life  without  ever 
ketchin'  any  other  fellah,  ain't  she?"  demanded  Ja 
cob.  ''You  mind  to  what  I  tell  you — she  's  workin' 
you  with  all  that  there  soft-soap  she  's  spittin'  at 
you!" 

Barnabetta  turned  away.  She  went  back  slowly  to 
the  dining-room  where  her  stepmother,  singing 

"  In  all  my  dreams  I  dream  of  you," 
was  briskly  clearing  off  the  supper-table. 


47 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    STEPMOTHER    STARTS    REFORMS 

GIVE  me  an  apron,  dear  child  and,  working 
conjointly,  we  shall  soon  have  all  this  debris 
out  of  the  way  and  then,  my  little  daughter 
(ah,  how  I  love  to  call  you  my  little  daughter,  you 
sweet-faced  child !)  you  and  I  will  sit  down  and  have  a 
heart-to-heart  talk,  shan  n  't  we  ? ' ' 

"I  'm  afraid,"  Barnabetta  shyly  answered  as  she 
produced  the  apron, ' '  that  you  're  too  fine  for  common 
work." 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  rippled  Mrs.  Dreary,  "all  work 
is  noble  if  executed  in  a  spirit  of  helpfulness.  Shake 
speare  did  not  say  that,  but  he  might  well  have !  Yes, 
I  often  have  thoughts  not  unworthy,  if  I  do  say  it,  of 
the  poets.  Are  you  fond  of  literature,  my  dear?" 

"You  mean  reading-matter?"  Barnabetta  asked 
hesitatingly  as  they  worked  together  at  the  kitchen 
sink.  "I  love  to  read,  still,  when  I  can  get  anything 
to  read.  But  I  can't  often.  Did  you — did  you 
bring  a  book  or  such  a  magazine  mebby,  in  your 
trunk?"  the  girl  asked  with  timid  eagerness. 

"Not  in  my  trunk,  my  dear.  That  big  box  that 
came  out  by  the  stage  is  packed  exclusively  with  my 

48 


The  Stepmother  Starts  Reforms 

books — my  precious  friends!  Ah,  I  could  not  live 
without  my  dear  literary  loves!" 

"That  big  box  is  full  of  books!"  breathed  Barna- 
betta.  ' '  But  how  did  you  come  by  that  many  ? ' ' 

"My  dear,  you  may  find  it  incredible,  but  many  a 
time  I  purchase  a  literary  work  in  preference  to  an 
article  of  apparel — preferring  to  endow  the  mind 
rather  than  the  corpus." 

"You  spent  the  money  to  buy  as  many  as  that 
whole  box-full  of  books?"  repeated  Barnabetta  won- 
deringly. 

"Yes,  and  I  expect  to  buy  as  many  more  before  I 
die,  daughter." 

"Pop  won't  favor  it,"  came  involuntarily  from 
Barnabetta.  "He  '11  be  put  out  when  he  sees  how 
many  books  you  brang  already,  because  he  '11  have  so 
afraid  I  'II  waste  my  time  reading  them  if  they  're 
around." 

"Waste  your  time,  my  child?  Time  devoted  to 
literary  or  artistic  pursuits  is  the  only  time  not  wasted. 
This/'  she  indicated  the  sink  with  a  dramatic  flourish 
of  her  dish-towel,  ' '  is  wasted  time,  save  as  it  is  indis 
pensable  as  a  foundation  to  the  higher  life." 

Barnabetta  paused  in  her  rapid  work  to  gaze  upon 
the  face  of  the  speaker.  "You  speak  so  beautiful!" 

"You,  I  perceive,  dear  child,  are  going  to  appre 
ciate  me  at  my  highest  worth.  Your  dear  Papa,  I 
fear,  does  not  as  yet.  Few  have.  Now,"  she  pro 
nounced,  taking  qff  her  apron,  as  the  last  clean  dish 

49 


Barnabetta 

was  put  away,  "we  are  free  to  talk  as  one  woman  to 
another. ' ' 

"But  I  have  to  fetch  in  the  wash,  yet,  off  the  lines 
and  feed  the  chickens  and  hunt  the  eggs." 

"Where  's  Jacob?"   demanded  Mrs.   Dreary. 

"He  goes,  still,  to  the  hotel  when  supper 's 
through. ' ' 

"What  for?" 

"Just  to  sit." 

"And  Emanuel?  He  and  your  father  are  not  both 
needed  at  the  shop  at  this  hour.  We  '11  call  Emanuel 
to  take  in  the  wash,  feed  the  fowls,  and  hunt  the 


"But  he  won't,"  Barnabetta  was  moved  to  one 
of  her  rare  smiles  at  the  suggestion.  ' '  The  boys  they 
are  used  to  me  doing  it." 

"It  's  time  they  got  used  to  something  else,  little 
daughter.  Call  Emanuel." 

Barnabetta,  in  great  uncertainty,  went  forth  to  do 
her  bidding.  Emanuel,  lounging  with  several  men 
about  the  front  of  the  shop,  came  over  in  astonish 
ment  in  answer  to  Barnabetta 's  beckoning. 

"Is  the  house  afire  or  whatever?"  he  demanded  as 
he  came  into  the  kitchen. 

"It  's  'whatever,'  Emanuel,"  said  Mrs.  Dreary. 
"Kindly  bring  in  the  wash,  feed  the  chickens  and 
hunt  the  eggs.  You  sit  so  much  in  that  shop  that 
lack  of  exercise  is  impairing  your  complexion  and 
making  you  dyspeptical.  Come,  dear  daughter,  show 

50 


The  Stepmother  Starts  Reforms 

me  over  the  house,"  she  concluded,  hooking  her  arm 
through  Barnabetta's  and  leading  her  away. 

"Hi!"  called  Emanuel  when  he  could  get  his 
breath.  "Wliat  did  you  say,  anyhow?" 

Mrs.  Dreary  paused  in  the  doorway.  "I  said  get 
an  ax  and  open  that  wooden  box  on  the  porch  for  me, 
dear  son,  and  then  bring  in  the  laundry,  hunt  the 
eggs  and  feed  the  live  stock." 


"You.  Unless  you  '11  summon  Jacob  from  the  ho- 
tel  (observe  my  pronunciation,  please)  to  do  it." 

"Is  Barnabetta  took  sick  or  what?" 

"I  need  her.     Hasten,  son,  before  it  grows  dark." 

"I  ain't  doin'  it,"  Emanuel  sullenly  affirmed.  "I 
ain't  doin'  no  woman's  work." 

"Please  open  the  box  of  books  first,  dear  boy," 
called  Mrs.  Dreary  as  she  disappeared  from  the  room, 
drawing  Barnabetta  with  her. 

The  latter,  knowing  that  though  curiosity  might  in 
duce  Emanuel  to  open  the  wooden  box,  he  certainly 
would  not  do  his  sister's  chores,  and  feeling  a  concern 
for  her  chickens,  eggs  and  "wash,"  went  nevertheless 
with  her  stepmother. 

"I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Dreary,  patting  the  girl's  cheek 
as  they  stood  in  the  severely  plain  "front  room," 
"that  we  must  awaken  the  dormant  aesthetic  instinct 
in  our  little  girl.  A  wonderful  little  housekeeper 
she  is ;  not  a  speck  of  dust  observable ;  but  the  touch 
of  beauty  essential  to  my  sensitive  taste  is  lacking." 

51 


Barnabetta 

The  praise  of  her  housekeeping  made  Barnabetta 
color  with  a  strange  new  sense  of  pleasure.  Not  since 
her  school-days  when  Abel  Buchter  used  to  praise  her 
good  lessons  and  read  her  "Compositions"  to  the 
whole  school,  had  any  one  ever  given  her  a  word  of 
commendation.  It  sounded  very  sweet  to  the  child. 

"This  room,  now,"  Mrs.  Dreary  continued,  "has 
possibilities.  What  a  good  thing  I  did  not  yield  to 
my  dear  one's  importunities  that  I  should  sell  my 
own  furniture  and  let  him  invest  the  proceeds!  I 
refused  to  consider  doing  it  until  I  had  first  seen  how 
his  home  was  equipped.  Well,  my  piano,  my  books,  my 
draperies,  will  transform  this  into  quite  a  livable 
apartment.  As  it  is,  I  could  not  brook  it — could  not 
brook  it!" 

"We  don't  use  it  except  sometimes  on  Sundays,  or 
if  there  was  a  funeral." 

"But  we  will  use  it  when  we  've  made  it  usable, 
dear  child." 

"A  person  don't  have  time,  either,  to  sit  much  in 
the  front  room." 

"It  is  in  this  room  that  we  shall  live,  my  dear — 
with  books,  music,  conversation.  Who  are  these?" 

Mrs.  Dreary  indicated  a  photograph  of  a  weird 
family  group  on  the  mantel. 

"My  mother  and  her  parents  and  brothers  and 
sisters.  My  mother  was  the  first  one  off  of  that  pic 
ture  to  die.  The  rest  are  all  living  yet.  I  sometimes 
think — "  Barnabetta  hesitated. 

52 


The  Stepmother  Starts  Reforms 

"Yes,  my  dear?"  Mrs.  Dreary  encouraged  her. 

"That  she  was  spared  a  lot.  Life  is  so  long," 
sighed  Barnabetta.  "And  so — so  tiresome!" 

"You  need  young  company.  And  frivolity.  Yes, 
frivolity — and  you  are  going  to  have  it.  I  '11  take 
you  to  town  to  a  moving-picture  show." 

"But  Pop  won't  leave  us  go!" 

"But  he  will  of  course  feel  perfectly  safe  about 
you  when  you  are  with  me,  daughter." 

"It  ain't  that — that  he  wouldn't  feel  safe  for  me. 
He  wouldn't  leave  me  let  the  work." 

"But  of  course  we  '11  do  up  the  work,  lore,  before 
we  go." 

"Pop  don't  favor  pleasure-seeking,"  said  Barna 
betta,  trying  gently  to  convey  to  the  poor  lady  that 
she  was  laboring  under  a  wild  delusion  as  to  her 
spouse. 

' '  Then  he  need  not  go  with  us.  We  will  not  force 
him  to  enjoy  himself  if  he  prefers  not  to.  What 
room  is  this?" 

They  had  come  up-stairs  and  had  entered  a  mea- 
gerly-furnished  bedroom  with  bare,  whitewashed 
walls. 

"This  is  Pop's  bedroom.     Yours  and  his." 

' '  Ah,  my  dear,  you  will  see  how  pretty  I  shall  make 
it  with  my  pink  pillow-shams  and  lambrequins  and 
my  bureau  ornaments!  And  you  will  see  how 
a  pretty  environment  is  going  to  soften  the  somewhat 
rude  exterior  of  dear  Papa.  My  love,  only  one 

53 


Barnabetta 

towel?"  she  questioned,  pointing  to  the  wash-stand. 

"Pop  washes  down  at  the  pump." 

"Where  do  you  keep  the  towels,  dear  heart,  so  that 
I  can  help  myself  and  not  bother  you  ? ' ' 

"There  are  a  few  more  in  the  bureau  there.  I 
have  to  use  them  careful — they  wear  out  so ! — and  Pop 
don't  like  it  when  I  must  buy  more." 

"  Never  mind,  dear,  your  days  for  worrying  over 
these  degrading  trifles  are  over — I  '11  take  charge  of 
all  that  now.  I  see  you  take  it  far  too  seriously." 

She  opened  the  bureau-drawer  as  she  spoke  and 
taking  out  another  towel,  hung  it  beside  its  mate 
on  the  rack.  "I  always  require  two — one  for  the 
face  and  one  for  the  torso,"  she  pronounced.  "Now, 
then,  this  next  room?" 

"This  is  Jacob's  room  and  this  one  is  Emanuel's," 
said  Barnabetta,  leading  the  way  down  a  white 
washed  hall  and  indicating  two  good-sized,  but  bar 
ren,  bedrooms.  "And  this  one  is  my  room." 

"And  the  guest-chamber,  my  dear?" 

"A  spare-room?"  said  Barnabetta.  "We  haven't 
one.  When  each  one  wants  their  own  room  it  does 
take  away  rooms  so  fast,  ain't?" 

"Then  we  must  persuade  the  two  boys  to  occupy 
one  room  and  we  '11  furnish  a  guest-chamber.  I  ex 
pect  often  to  entertain  my  Reading  friends  in  my 
suburban  home.  Jacob  and  Emanuel  can  have  sep 
arate  beds  if  they  so  desire,  but  not  separate  rooms 
when  there  is  no  guest-chamber." 

54 


The  Stepmother  Starts  Reforms 

Barnabetta  felt  appalled  at  the  number  of  things 
of  which  her  stepmother  seemed  ignorant  regarding 
the  family  into  which  she  had  come. 

"Pop  don't  favor  comp'ny,"  she  feebly  suggested 
as  they  now  returned  to  the  lower  floor.  "And  the 
boys  mebby  won't  feel  for  rooming  together." 

"But  since  we  require  a  guest-chamber,  what  else 
is  there  for  the  boys  to  do?" 

"You  can  ask  them  then,  but  I  'm  afraid  they  won't 
do  it." 

"Oh,  but  I  'm  sure  they  're  going  to  be  dear  good 
sons  to  their  new  Mama!  Little  gentle  sister  has 
spoiled  them,  I  fear !  Let  us  see,  now,  about  the  box 
of  books,  my  dear." 

It  was  as  Barnabetta  had  foreseen — Emanuel  had 
chopped  open  the  wooden  box  and  dragged  it  into 
the  kitchen,  but  he  had  not  touched  his  sister 's  chores ; 
and  the  girl,  feverishly  eager  to  get  at  the  books,  flew 
to  do  her  unfinished  work  that  she  might  have,  before 
her  father  returned  from  the  shop,  at  least  a  peep 
into  the  coveted  treasure  which  he  would  be  sure  to 
forbid  to  her  the  moment  he  laid  eyes  upon  it. 


55 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    CONFLICT   OF   WILLS 

MR.  DREARY'S  policy  in  his  new  venture  of 
matrimony  was  to  "Go  slow." 

"I  give  her  her  head  fur  a  while  yet  till  she  's 
used  a  little  to  me,"  he  told  himself.  "Then  /  take 
the  reins!" 

"When  before  their  marriage  she  had  refused  to 
sell  her  furniture,  he  had  yielded,  because  he  had  not 
felt  it  safe  at  that  crisis  to  insist  upon  his  own  way ; 
and  he  had  even  allowed  the  "junk"  to  be  sent,  at 
great  expense,  out  to  Reinhartz  and  set  up  in  his 
own  house.  To  be  sure,  she  had  paid  the  expense. 
But  as  he  now  looked  upon  her  money  as  his  own,  the 
transaction  did,  after  all,  rob  him.  And  good  Lord ! 
What  she  had  done  to  his  house! 

"A  body  'd  think,  to  look  around  this  here  house, 
that  he  was  in  the  Five  and  Ten  Cent  Store  yet! 
You  can't  stir  for  fear  of  knockin'  over  such  an 
ornament  or  what — or  gettin'  tangled  up  in  a  'port- 
hair'  as  she  calls  them  rags  she  's  got  hangin'  to  the 
doorways!  Yi,  yi,  but  women  are  awful  silly  when 
you  come  to  think  about  it ! " 

He  had  also  yielded  to  her  almost  hysterical  in- 
56 


The  Conflict  of  Wills 

sistence  that  the  front  room,  now  a  real  "parlor,"  be 
kept  opened  up  and  in  use  on  week-days  and  that  all 
meals  be  served  in  the  dining-room,  with  napkins  at 
every  meal.  If  she  wanted  to  make  that  much  extra 
work  for  herself  just  because  she  had  "tony  ways,'* 
that  was  her  affair ;  and  the  napkins  were  part  of  her 
"junk" — he  had  not  been  called  upon  to  supply; 
them.  There  he  would  have  drawn  the  line. 

As  for  her  bookcase  full  of  "such  novels  and  what 
ever,"  over  which  Barnabetta  had,  during  the  past 
week  since  his  wife's  advent,  wasted  time  and  coal-oil 
— well,  he  privately  determined  that  he  would,  at  no 
distant  day,  pack  the  lot  of  them  into  a  trunk  and 
sell  them  at  the  Reading  Second-Hand  Book  Store. 

Meantime,  though  giving  in  to  her  in  these  larger 
matters,  he  was  taking  care  that  day  by  day  she  have 
her  little  lesson  in  adapting  herself  to  his  point  of 
view.  That  very  first  morning  after  her  arrival  when 
she  had  stopped  him  as  he  was  going  over  to  the  shop, 
to  remind  him  that  he  had  not  yet  brought  up  any 
coal  from  the  cellar,  he  had  "learned"  her. 

"I  don't  do  the  women's  work,"  he  had  firmly  told 
her. 

"No,  but  the  men's  work  is  what  you  are  forgetting, 
dear  love — a  few  buckets  of  coal  carried  up  from  the 
cellar.  Of  course,  I  know  it  is  only  the  excitement 
of  our  honeymoon  that  could  make  you  overlook  such 
a  thing.  Why,  you  'd  never  get  over  it  if  your  bride 
had  to  carry  up  a  bucket  of  coal!" 

57 


Barnabetta 

"I  don't  do  no  housework,  Jool-yet.  I  never  done 
any  so  far  and  I  ain't  beginnin'  now!"— and  before 
she  could  reply  he  had  fled. 

Then  there  had  been  her  high-handed  proceeding 
one  morning  while  the  "men-folks"  were  all  out  of 
the  house,  in  putting  two  single  beds  (part  of  her 
property)  into  Jacob's  room  and  fixing  up  Emanuel's 
room  for  "a  comp'ny  room." 

Emanuel,  upheld  by  his  father,  had  promptly  car 
ried  back  all  his  clothes  to  his  own  room  and  had  been 
sleeping  there  ever  since.  If  Jool-yet  had  a  company 
room,  she  might  be  inviting  company,  which  would 
cost  money.  So  Mr.  Dreary  stoutly  backed  his  son 
in  his  refusal  to  room  with  his  brother. 

She  took  it  all  very  cheerfully.  She  did  n  't  ' '  have 
cross  at  him." 

"To  be  sure  I  made  certain  before  I  married  her 
that  she  was  nice-dispositioned  that  way,"  he  com 
placently  told  himself,  not  at  all  expecting  her  to  re 
sent  his  "right  authority." 

He  received,  however,  a  genuine  shock  when  on  the 
first  wash-day  after  her  arrival,  he  discovered  in  the 
course  of  the  morning,  as  he  glanced  from  his  shop 
into  his  back  yard,  that  a  hired  wash- woman  was  hang 
ing  out  the  clothes. 

"That  's  somepin  I  don't  do,"  he  warmly  let  her 
know  when  at  noon  he  went  over  to  his  dinner.  ' '  Hire 
the  washin'  yet,  when  I  have  a  wife  and  a  growed-up 
daughter  at  home !  I  don 't  do  that  there ! ' ' 

58 


The  Conflict  of  Wills 

"Well,  then,  Husband,  we  '11  say  I  hired  her  and 
let  it  go  at  that.  I  should  n  't  ask  you  to  act  against 
your  principles." 

' '  Whether  you  hired  her  or  me — what  's  the  differ 
ence?  I  say  I  won't  have  it,  Jool-yet  S" 

"Not  to  argue  the  matter  with  you,  Barnaby,  I 
have  been  brought  up  much  too  refined  for  the  ardu 
ous  labor  of  the  Tub." 

"Well,  Barnabetta  ain't;  leave  her  do  the  tub  part 
and  you  hang  out  on  the  line,  if  that  's  more  refined ! ' ' 

"Our  little  girl,  Husband,  is  quite  as  delicate- 
minded  as  I  am.  I  fear  you  have  never  understood 
her  beautiful  nature !  I  cannot  permit  my  daughter 
to  do  such  coarse,  humiliating  labor.  Rather,  Bar 
naby,"  she  said  heroically,  "would  I  do  without  jew 
els,  art,  and  literary  works  and  pay  the  wash-woman 
myself. ' ' 

"Well,  Jool-yet,"  he  retorted  with  a  dark  signifi 
cance,  "you  won't  git  a  chanct  to  pay  her  wery  often! 
Now,"  he  abruptly  added,  "fetch  in  the  dinner.  It 's 
gittin'  late  on  me." 

"Now,  then,"  he  addressed  his  daughter  as  they 
all,  except  Jacob  whose  stage-route  kept  him  from  the 
noon  meal,  gathered  about  the  table,  "what  was  you 
doin'  all  mornin'  if  Jool-yet  cooked  dinner  and  Emmy 
Haverstick  done  the  washin',  heh?" 

But  before  Barnabetta  could  speak,  her  stepmother 
answered  for  her.  "She  did  two  hours'  housework 
— and  took  her  music  lesson!" 

59 


Barnabetta 

There  had  been  wrought  in  Barnabetta,  during  the 
past  week,  with  its  new  and  wonderful  experiences — 
companionship,  affection,  and  understanding,  books 
and  music,  not  to  mention  the  easing  of  the  heavy 
burden  of  work  she  was  used  to  carrying — a  remark 
able  transformation.  Her  dull  indifference  and  ab 
straction  were  replaced  by  a  gentle  animation.  Her 
movements,  from  being  perfunctory,  listless,  had  ac 
quired  an  elasticity,  a  grace,  that  seemed  the  very 
expression  of  youthful  hope.  She  was  blooming, 
lovely. 

"Music  lesson,  did  you  say?"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Dreary,  recovering  from  the  momentary  shock  of  this 
communication. 

"I  am  giving  her  instruction  in  the  rudiments," 
answered  Mrs.  Dreary.  "And  already  I  foresee, 
Barnaby,  a  beautiful  fruition  of  my  hopes  for  our 
daughter,  though  of  course  her  development  is  as  yet 
in  its  incipiency.  Her  progress  is  such,  however,  that 
I  shall,  before  long,  have  to  turn  her  over  to  Professor 
Schmidt  at  Beading.  There,  there,  Husband,  don't 
get  excited — I  'II  pay  for  her  music  lessons ! ' ' 

"You  two  foolin'  time  at  the  pie-anner  in  the 
morning  yet — while  a  hired  person  does  your  work! 
See  here,  Barnabetta!"  He  turned  roughly  to  the 
girl.  "You  leave  that  pie-anner  be,  do  you  hear? 
You  haven't  the  dare  to  pound  the  old  box  till  your 
work  's  done  a 'ready  after  supper!  Don't  you  leave 
me  ketch  you!" 

60 


The  Conflict  of  Wills 

"Will  you  have  some  more  of  the  noodle  soup, 
Husband  ? ' '  Juliet  tenderly  interposed.  ' '  My  chicken 
noodle  soup,"  she  chattered  as  she  refilled  his  plate 
from  the  china  tureen  in  front  of  her,  "is  very  pal 
atable.  So  considered  by  my  friends.  Don't  you  find 
it  agreeable,  son  ? ' '  she  appealed  to  Emanuel,  who  was 
always  too  much  occupied  at  the  table  to  be  conver 
sational.  "There  is  really  a  poetic  side  to  cooking," 
she  went  on,  not  waiting  for  an  answer  that  she  knew 
would  not  be  forthcoming.  "A  sensitive  palate  al 
ways  accompanies  refinement  of  mind.  Coarse  food 
I  cannot  abide.  It  is  the  ambition  of  my  life  to  take 
a  meal  at  Sherry's.  Barnaby,  dear,  I  '11  buy  you  a 
dress  suit  and  take  you  to  New  York  and  we  '11  dine 
at  Delmonico 's. " 

' '  Not  if  I  know  it ! "  retorted  Barnaby,  noisily  busy 
with  his  soup. 

He  had  never  been  a  man  to  bluster  in  controlling 
his  household.  It  had  not  been  necessary.  And  the 
problem  now  confronting  him,  so  new  in  his  experi 
ence  of  women,  roused  in  him  a  cunning  rather  than 
the  rage  his  daughter  looked  for. 

"No  use  sayin'  a  whole  lot,"  he  mused  as  he  ate 
the  good  dinner  cooked  by  his  wife.  ' '  The  ready  cash 
she  has  on  hand  will  soon  be  all;  and  I  '11  take  good 
care  when  her  next  interest  money  comes,  it  don't  fall 
in  her  hands.  And  then  after  a  bit — I  '11  'go  slow' — 
but  after  she  's  more  used  to  me,  I  '11  git  her  to  put  her 
capital  in  my  name — so  's  she  can't  spend  so!" 

61 


Barnabetta 

After  dinner,  the  men  having  gone  to  their  work, 
what  was  Barnabetta 's  surprise  to  hear  her  step 
mother,  as  she  paid  the  wash-woman,  admonish  her 
not  to  fail  to  come  early  the  following  Monday  morn 
ing. 

"But,"  Barnabetta  reminded  her  when  Emmy 
Haverstick  had  gone,  "Pop  said  for  us  not  to  hire 
the  wash,  Mama!" 

"Oh,  my  dear,  you  must  not  take  a  man's  pecul 
iarities  too  seriously.  Now  let  us  get  these  dishes 
out  of  the  way  and  then  I  Ve  a  treat  for  you." 

The  treat  proved  to  be  a  yet  more  startling  propo 
sition  than  the  deliberate  disregard  of  her  father's 
positive  prohibition  of  a  wash-woman. 

"Now,  dearie,  the  work  is  all  done  and  you  and  I 
are  going  to  have  a  bit  of  needed  gaiety.  "We  are 
going  to  take  a  country  drive." 

Barnabetta 's  eyes  shone.  "Where  are  we  to  get 
the  team,  Mama?" 

' '  We  '11  use  that  nice  little  horse  of  Jacob 's  that  he 
has  bought,  my  dear. ' ' 

Barnabetta  caught  her  breath.  "We  darsent, 
Mama!  He  won't  even  leave  Emanuel  borrow  the 
loan  of  it  off  of  him." 

"Where  does  Jacob  keep  it,  my  love?" 

"He  boards  it  at  the  livery  stable  where  he  hires 
his  stage  horses." 

"Exactly.  We  '11  use  Jacob's  horse  and  I  '11  hire 
a  buggy." 

62 


The  Conflict  of  Wills 

"But  Jacob  ain't  here  for  us  to  ask  him  dare  we." 

"As  he  necessarily  never  uses  his  horse  in  the  day 
time,  we  will  use  it,  my  dear,  whenever  we  like.  Oh, 
yes,  we  will!" 

"But,  Mama,  not  even  when  Emanuel  offered  to 
pay  him  yet,  would  Jacob  leave  him  have  it.  'Jacob 
told  him  that  he  saved  up  to  buy  that  horse  and  no 
one  dare  use  it  but  him.  He  bought  it  to  take  Suse 
Darmstetter  buggy-riding,  because  Suse  would  not 
keep  company  with  any  one  that  couldn't  take  her 
on  a  buggy.  As  soon  as  he  can  save  enough  more  he 
is  going  to  buy  his  own  buggy  too." 

"Will  the  female  you  refer  to  as  'Suse,'  be  able, 
when  married  to  Jacob,  to  induce  him  to  accede  to 
her  wishes  as  now  ?  That  is  the  crucial  question,  the 
pivotal  point.  Well,  well — that  is  neither  here  nor 
there  so  far  as  you  and  I  are  concerned,  is  it,  dearie  ? 
Come  up-stairs  now  and  we  '11  dress. ' ' 

"Mama,  we  'd  better  not  risk  it!" 

"My  dear,  I  paid  for  the  washing  of  Jacob's  weekly 
laundry  and  you  and  I  expect  to  iron  it  for  him. 
He  pays  your  dear  Papa  for  his  board  here — but 
what  does  he  give  you  and  me  for  all  the  work  we  do 
for  him?  We  are  entitled  to  the  use  of  his  buggy. 
Leave  the  matter  to  me ! " 

Barnabetta,  with  a  sense  of  excitement  utterly  new 
to  her,  went  obediently  to  change  her  dress. 

"Dear,  dear!"  Mrs.  Dreary  shook  her  head  over 
the  girl's  poor  "best"  in  the  way  of  clothing.  "I 

63 


Barnabetta 

must  take  you  to  town  this  very  week  and  get  you 
some  things — a  jacket  suit  and  a  silk  blouse.  You 
have  been  too  neglectful  of  yourself,  my  dear,  in 
your  unselfish  devotion  to  the  comfort  of  your  Papa 
and  big  brothers.  A  very  mistaken  policy !  Observe, 
please,  that  the  women  whose  husbands  are  most  de 
voted,  are  the  peevish,  exacting,  selfish  women.  Here, 
daughter,  let  me  pin  this  red  ribbon  at  your  throat — 
a  bit  of  color  against  the  rather  gray  background  of 
this  autumn  day ! ' ' 

At  the  livery  stable  Mrs.  Dreary  selected  the  better 
of  the  two  available  buggies  and  gave  the  order  that 
her  "son's"  horse  be  hitched  to  it  at  once. 

The  stable-man,  surprised  but  unsuspicious,  did  her 
bidding. 

Ten  minutes  later,  Emanuel  Dreary,  lounging  in 
front  of  the  tin-shop,  was  knocked  quite  silly  by  the 
shock  of  the  sight  which  suddenly  met  his  eyes — a 
buggy  coming  up  the  village  street,  in  which  was 
seated  his  "high-falutin"  stepmother  and  his  sister, 
the  former  holding  the  reins — and  driving  Jacob's 
horse! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    HEAD    OF    THE    HOUSE    ACTS 

IT  was  at  the  livery  stable,  when  Jacob  had  un 
hitched  his  team  at  the  end  of  his  day's  route, 
that,  going  to  inspect  his  precious  possession,  the 
pretty  mare  he  had  lately  purchased,  he  saw  at  once 
from  her  condition  that  she  had  but  just  returned 
from  heated  exercise,  and  in  angry  consternation,  he 
demanded  an  explanation  from  the  owner  of  the 
stable. 

"You  ain't  tellin'  me,  Jake,  that  it  wasn't  by 
your  orders  your  mare  was  hitched  up  fur  them  two  ? ' ' 
the  livery  man  inquired  in  equal  consternation. 

"My  orders?  What  orders?  What  two?  What 
are  you  talkin'  about,  Ben  Nissley?" 

"Your  Pop's  new  Missus  and  Barnabetta.  To  be 
sure  I  certainly  thought,  when  they  said  off-hand  that 
way  fur  your  horse  to  be  hitched  to  my  best  buggy, 
that  they  had  got  the  dare  from  you ! ' ' 

' '  Barnabetta  and  Pop 's  wife !  They  had  my  horse 
out !  Where  to  f  What  f ur  ? " 

"Fur  such  a  pleasure-ride,  Jake,  so  far  forth  as  I 
could  tell.  I  charged  'em  fifty  cents  fur  the  buggy 
and  they  said — or  Missus  she  said — they  'd  be  hirin' 

65 


Barnabetta 

it,  now,  reg'lar  twicet  a  week — with  your  horse!  I 
never  conceited  they  'd  have  the  cheek  to  be  talkin' 
like  that  unbeknownst  to  you! — though  it  certainly 
did  wonder  me  at  you — fur  all,  your  mare  does  need 
more  exercise  than  what  she  gits,  still,  and  your  step- 
mom  she  's  a  good  driver  all  right  and  you  have  no 
need  to — " 

"You  hadn't  the  dare  to  give  'em  my  horse,  Ben 
Nissley!"  Jacob,  white  with  anger,  declared  chok 
ingly.  "Them  two  usin'  my  horse  yet!  I  'd  take 
her  to  another  livery  right  aways  this  minute  a 'ready 
if  I  otherwise  could!  You  ain't  to  be  trusted  with 
her !  You  ain't  got  no  right  to  charge  me  fur  keepin' 
her  when  that  's  the  way  you  keep  her — hire  her  out 
to  women!" 

"I  didn't  hire  her  out,  Jake — they  didn't  pay  me 
fur  her!  I  tell  you  I  thought  you  sent  'em.  To  be 
sure  it  wasn't  anyways  like  you — but  then  I  had 
been  tellin'  you  that  that  there  mare  needed  more 
exercise  than  what  she  got  and  I  seen  your  stepmom 
she  knowed  how  to  drive  all  right — " 

"Aw,  dry  up!  Look-a-here!  The  next  time  any 
body  comes  'round  here  fur  my  horse,  you  kin  'phone 
fur  the  constable  and  arrest  'em!  See?  Now  you 
mind  to  it!" 

And  Jacob  flung  himself,  boiling  with  indignation, 
out  of  the  stable  and  strode  towards  home. 

The  odors  of  the  delicious  supper  that  was  just  be 
ing  carried  into  the  dining-room  as  he  entered  the 

66 


The  Head  of  the  House  Acts 

cozy  kitchen — fried  chicken,  waffles,  savory  coffee — 
did  not  allay  his  just  wrath. 

"Say!"  he  violently  addressed  his  stepmother  who 
was  at  the  stove  baking  waffles.  "What  do  you  mean 
by  somepin  like  this,  anyhow,  heh?  You  leave 
my—" 

"But,  son,  I  'm  about  to  buy  a  dear  little  buggy, 
since  I  reside  in  the  suburbs,  and  you  may  use  it 
to  take  out  the  person  always  referred  to  as  'Suse 
Darmstetter' — in  exchange  for  my  use  of  your  horse. 
That  will  save  you  fifty  cents  a  ride — the  price  I  paid 
this  afternoon  and — " 

lfl  tell  you,  you  leave  my  horse  be!  You  ain't 
got  no  right  to  her!  I  tole  Ben  Nissley  if  ever  he 
left  you  touch  her  ag'in  I  'd  leave  him  know!  And 
I  tell  you  right  now,  if — " 

"Jacob,  dear  boy!" — she  suddenly  pointed  her 
waffle  ladle  at  him  and  a  drop  of  scalding  batter  fell 
on  his  hand. 

"Ouch!"  he  bawled,  rushing  to  the  sink  to  wash 
it  off — and  Juliet,  pushing  the  waffle-iron  to  the  back 
of  the  stove,  ran  to  his  assistance  with  a  bottle  of 
peroxide  and  some  sanitary  cotton  which,  by  a  strange 
coincidence,  she  had  right  at  hand.  The  burn  was 
painful  enough  to  make  him  submit  to  her  ministra 
tions,  which  she  performed  so  capably  and  sympa 
thetically  that  by  the  time  they  all  sat  down  to  supper, 
the  young  man's  fury  had  been  reduced  to  a  mere 
sulk. 

67 


Barnabetta 

Barnabetta  looked  on  wonderingly  at  her  step 
mother's  management  of  her  brother.  So  this  was 
why,  before  Jacob  had  come  home,  she  had  been  sent 
up-stairs  to  fetch  the  peroxide — "Mama"  intended 
to  burn  Jacob! — had  deliberately  planned  to  divert 
his  rage  by  giving  him  something  else  to  think  about. 
What  a  wonderful  woman! 

But  in  the  end,  Barnabetta  sadly  reflected,  the  men 
of  the  family  would  certainly  bring  her,  wonderful 
though  she  was,  to  submit  in  all  things  to  them.  Her 
father  would,  she  knew,  find  some  means  to  put  a 
stop  to  his  wife's  reckless  spending  of  money.  Yet 
here  was  poor  Mama  planning  to  buy  a  buggy  and 
have  a  bath-room  put  into  the  house! 

The  silence  during  the  supper  was  portentous. 
Even  Juliet  was  a  bit  affected  by  it  and  did  not  chatter 
quite  so  volubly  as  usual.  Her  wheedling  and  bland 
ishments,  she  was  beginning  to  realize,  could  not 
rouse  these  stolid  men  out  of  the  deep  rut  in  which 
they  lived. 

Barnabetta  knew,  of  course,  that  her  father  would 
not  ignore  the  afternoon's  high-handed  proceeding, 
but  was  reserving  what  he  had  to  say  until  the  boys 
were  out  of  the  way.  His  relations  with  his  wife 
were  still  too  new  to  admit  of  his  admonishing  her 
before  his  sons  who  were  not  also  hers.  Had  she 
been  their  own  mother  or  had  she  been  with  them 
longer,  such  delicate  restraint  would  not  have  been 
exercised. 

68 


The  Head  of  the  House  Acts 

' '  You  do  the  supper  dishes  by  yourself  this  evening, 
Barnabetta,"  Mr.  Dreary  ordered  his  daughter  as 
soon  as  the  boys  had  left  the  table.  "I  got  to  speak 
somepin  to  Jool-yet.  But  here!" — he  held  up  his 
hand  to  stop  her  a  moment  as  she  was  about  to  carry 
some  dishes  to  the  kitchen.  Pushing  his  chair  back 
from  the  table,  he  leaned  forward,  planted  his  hands 
on  his  knees  and  fixed  his  little  gleaming  eyes  upon 
the  girlish  figure  before  him. 

"Once  fur  all,  Barnabetta,  no  more  gallivantin' 
without  you  ast  me  first  if  you  dare !  I  ain  't  leavin ' 
you  run  in  the  daytime  when  you  had  ought  to  be  at 
home  here  tendin'  to  the  work." 

"But,  Barnaby,  the  work  is  not  neglected,"  spoke 
up  Mrs.  Dreary.  "Name  one  thing,  if  you  can,  that 
is  not  done  for  your  comfort  and  convenience." 

"Yes,  when  you  pay  out  money  to  hired  people  yet, 
to  do  what  you  'd  ought  to  do,  then  to  be  sure  you 
git  time  a-plenty  to  run.  Mind  you,  Jool-yet,  if  that 
there  Emmy  Haverstick  shows  up  here  next  Monday, 
you  '11  git  a  shamed  face  in  front  of  her,  fur  I  '11 
chase  her  off!  Barnabetta,  you  mind  to  what  I  say — 
you  stay  at  home  in  the  daytime  and  tend  to  the 
work!" 

He  turned  to  Juliet,  and  Barnabetta  proceeded  to 
the  kitchen. 

"Set  down  oncet,  Jool-yet.  Barnabetta  will  do 
all." 

"Oh,  no,  I  can't  think  of  permitting  her  to  do  it 
69 


Barnabetta 

all.  I  can  hear  you  as  I  work,"  she  answered,  bus 
tling  about  to  clear  off  the  table. 

"Set  down!"  he  commanded. 

"Haven't  time,  dearie — tempus  fugit,  as  Emerson 
aptly  says.  Eun  along  and  amuse  yourself  until  I 
am  at  leisure  for  conversation.  Quick,  quick! — or  I 
might  spill  some  gravy  on  you!"  she  cried,  holding 
the  bowl  so  near  his  head  that  he  dodged  it  precipi 
tately. 

She  flew  to  the  kitchen  and  began  to  clatter  the 
dishes  so  noisily  that  "conversation"  was  indeed  im 
possible. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  "retired"  (Juliet  never 
went  to  bed,  she  genteely  retired)  that  the  bewildered 
husband  had  a  chance  to  relieve  himself  of  what  he 
had  to  say. 

"It  's  well  you  got  married,"  he  began  when  they 
were  at  last  alone  in  their  room. 

"It  's  well  you  did,  Husband!  I  'm  not  so  sure 
about  myself!"  she  coquettislily  retorted. 

' '  Fur  the  reason  that  you  needed  a  man  to  manage 
your  money!" 

' '  Oh,  I  did  n  't  marry  for  that.  I  always  have  been 
and  always  shall  be  able  to  manage  my  worldly  goods, 
Barnaby.  Note  the  emphasis,  please — always  shall 
be." 

"You  don't  manage  'em.  You  squander  'em.  I 
was  just  countin'  together  how  much  you  spent  yet 
since  you  're  here  a 'ready,  and  it  mounts  up  some- 

70 


pin  awful !    Yes,  it  's  good  you  have,  now,  a  man 
to  take  care  of  the  money!" 

"But,  Barnaby,  I  never  touch  my  capital.  Of 
course  I  've  always  spent  all  my  income. ' ' 

"All!  You  spent  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  all  on 
yourself?"  he  demanded.  "I  just  suspicioned  as 
much !  Yi,  yi,  yi !  Think  how  much  more  you  'd 
have  a 'ready  if  you  'd  saved  every  year  out  of  that 
thousand  dollars!"  he  lamented. 

"Oh,"  she  laughed  in  her  sprightly  way,  "you  are 
so  humorous,  Barnaby!  Don't  you  worry,  honey, 
about  my  finances,"  she  said  soothingly.  "I 
wouldn't  think  of  bothering  you  with  the  care  of 
them,  though  of  course  I  appreciate  your  chivalry, 
Barnaby,  in  desiring  to  save  me  the  trouble.  Only 
I  don't  regard  it  as  a  trouble,  love.  Why,  I  never 
had  a  debt  in  my  life." 

"Debt!  Debts  yet!  I  would  guess  anyhow  not! 
Well,  after  this  when  your  interest  money  comes  in,  I 
invest  it  again  at  a  good  interest.  You  ain't  to  fling 
money  'round  as  if  you  was  one  of  them  Rockefellers 
or  whoever.  Yes,  I  tell  you  what  I  done  to-day — 
with  the  interest  money  that  come  this  morning,  in 
the  mail." 

"Oh!"  she  cried,  "it  came?  I  was  looking  for  it. 
But  why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?  You  haven't 
mislaid  the  check,  have  you?" 

"I  ain't  in  the  habit  of  mislayin'  checks  fur  three 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars ! ' ' 

71 


Barnabetta 

""Well,  where  is  it?" 

"I  '11  tell  you  what  I  done  with  it.  I  sent  it  right 
back  to  the  lawyer  and  tole  him  to  add  it  on  to  your 
capital  and  leave  it  draw  such  compound  interest. ' ' 

Juliet  turned  slowly  from  the  bureau  where  she 
was  taking  down — or  more  strictly  off — her  hair,  and 
looked  at  her  husband  earnestly. 

"Unknown  to  me,  you  sent  back  my  check  to  my 
lawyer  for  reinvestment?" 

"That's  what  I  done!" 

"But  I  need  it.     I  am  nearly  out  of  money." 

"Well,  when  you  're  out  of  money,  you  can't  any 
how  waste  it.  You  can't  go  takin'  our  Jacob's  horse 
off  with  a  hired  buggy ;  you  can 't  cut  up  no  didos ! ' ' 

Juliet  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  longer.  Then, 
turning  back  to  the  bureau,  and  beginning  softly  to 
hum, 

By  the  blue  Alsatian  Mountains 
Dwelt  a  maiden  wondrous  fair. 

— she  proceeded  very  deliberately  and  thoughtfully  to 
take  off  the  rest  of  her  hair. 


72 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  DOMESTIC  LULL 

THE  customary  sprightliness  of  Mrs.  Dreary's  de 
meanor  was  during  the  week  that  followed,  va 
ried  by  periods  of  silent  abstraction.  She  and  Barna- 
betta  remained  quietly  at  home,  attending  so  closely 
to  their  household  tasks  that  Mr.  Dreary  complacently 
decided  his  troubles  were  now  overcome  and  he  could 
settle  down  with  a  peaceful  mind  to  the  enjoyment  of 
hoarding  up  his  wife's  interest. 

"Now  I  didn't  thLik  she  'd  take  it  that  quiet,  the 
first  time  I  held  back  her  interest  money,  her  bein' 
so  used  to  handlin'  it  fur  herself/'  he  mused  as  he 
worked  in  his  shop.  "She  certainly  is  easy-disposi- 
tioned  that  way.  To  be  sure  if  she  wanted,  she  could 
make  me  a  lot  of  trouble  yet.  But  it  seems  she  ain't 
a-goin'  to  try  to.  After  a  while  I  guess  I  kin  easy 
git  her  to  sign  over  her  capital  to  me,  to  take  care  of 
fur  her." 

It  was  Mr.  Dreary's  honest  opinion  that  for  a  mar 
ried  woman  to  have  control  of  money  was  next  thing 
to  indecent. 

Barnabetta,  too,  decided,  as  she  and  Mrs.  Dreary 
worked  together  day  by  day,  that  at  last  her  step- 

73 


Barnabetta 

mother  was  coming  to  see  she  must  submit  to  the  in 
evitable. 

Yet  the  two  women  were  by  no  means  dull.  Barna 
betta  had  never  in  her  life  been,  as  now,  cheerful, 
interested,  happy.  And  Mrs.  Dreary,  except  for  those 
occasional  long  spells  of  abstraction,  was  quite  as 
chirpy,  as  voluble,  and  as  artistic  as  ever. 

It  seemed  so  strangely  beautiful  to  Barnabetta  to 
feel  herself  an  object  of  constant  concern,  of  deep 
interest,  to  one  of  her  own  household;  to  have  any 
one  in  the  world  anxious  to  give  her  pleasure,  to  make 
her  happy.  All  the  unexpressed  emotion  and  fire  of 
her  girlhood  went  forth,  in  these  days,  to  her  beloved 
stepmother. 

Jacob  and  Emanuel,  recognizing  quickly  their  fa 
ther's  growing  ascendancy  over  his  wife,  soon  began 
to  make  demands  upon  her  very  much  as  they  had 
always  done  upon  their  sister. 

"I  feel  fur  eatin'  cheese-omelet  fur  my  supper  to 
night,"  Jacob  stated  to  her  one  morning  as  he  was 
leaving  for  his  stage-route. 

"But  cheese-omelet,  son,  does  not  find  favor  with 
any  one  of  the  family  but  you  and  me.  So,  as  I  'm 
having  sauerkraut  for  supper,  I  have  n't  time  to-day 
to  make  the  omelet  especially  for  you.  Some  other 
day  when  I  'm  not  so  busy. ' ' 

"It  makes  nothing  if  the  others  don't  favor  it.  I 
want  some  fur  my  supper.  Barnabetta  always  made 
me  what  I  ast  fur. ' ' 

74 


A  Domestic  Lull 

"All  right,  you  shall  have  your  nice,  palatable 
cheese-omelet — if,  Jacob,  you  '11  be  a  good  boy  and 
bring  up  a  bucket  of  coal  before  you  go." 

"That  ain't  my  work,"  growled  Jacob.  "And  I 
have  the  right  to  have  what  I  ast  fur  at  my  meals. 
I  pay  my  board,  don 't  I  ? " 

"Yes,  son,  you  pay  your  Papa  for  your  food,  but 
neither  you  nor  he  nor  Emanuel  pay  your  little  sister 
and  me  for  the  work  we  do  for  you.  So,"  she  added 
gaily,  ' '  bring  up  a  bucket  of  coal  and  you  '11  get  your 
omelet." 

"You  see  that  you  make  me  my  omelet!"  Jacob  re 
torted  as  he  strode  out  of  the  kitchen  and  went 
straight  off  to  the  livery  stable. 

It  was  on  that  very  same  day  that  Emanuel  brought 
his  stepmother  a  pair  of  his  trousers  to  be  pressed. 

"But,  my  dear  boy,"  she  protested,  "take  them  to 
a  tailor.  That  is  not  a  woman 's  work ! ' ' 

"Barnabetta  always  ironed  my  pants  for  me. 
Here,"  he  flung  the  trousers  to  his  sister,  "you  do  it 
if  she  's  too  weak — or  mebby  too  tony ! ' ' 

"No,  daughter,"  interposed  Mrs.  Dreary,  "you 
can't  do  it  unless — "  she  tried  her  blandishments 
also  on  Emanuel — "brother  brings  up  a  bucket  of 
coal  for  us." 

"It  ain't  my  work  to  carry  the  coal." 

' '  Then,  dear  son,  it  is  not  sister 's  work  to  iron  your 
trousers — don't  call  them  'pants.'  " 

"You  have  them  pants  ironed  till  I  get  home 
75 


Barnabetta 

a 'ready,"  he  ordered  Barnabetta,  "or  I  '11  tell  Pop 
on  you." 

When  he  had  gone,  Barnabetta  came  and  stood  be 
fore  Juliet,  who  was  at  the  kitchen  table  paring  ap 
ples  for  dumplings. 

"I  'd  better  do  it,  Mama.  It  's  better  to  iron  the 
trousers  than  to  hear  them  scold;  and  Pop — father," 
she  corrected  herself,  "is  getting  restless  anyhow  at 
me  not  beginning  to  keep  company  with  Abel  Buchter 
now  that  he  has  you  here  to  keep  house.  If  he  gets 
cross  at  me  he  might  say  I  have  to  sit  up  with  Abel." 

"Abel  Buchter  is  a  nice  young  man,  my  dear,  but 
not  nearly  nice  enough  for  my  daughter!  I  have 
far  other  plans  for  you,  my  child.  Very  well," 
she  nodded,  "it  's  a  choice  of  two  evils — iron  the 
trousers  and  make  the  cheese-omelet,  or  keep  company 
with  Abel  Buchter.  We  '11  choose  the  lesser  evil; 
a  merely  temporary  concession  until — "  she  closed 
her  lips  and  resumed  her  paring. 

Barnabetta  went  across  the  kitchen  to  put  two  irons 
on  the  stove. 

"I  shall  iron  the  trousers,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Dreary. 
"You  shall  not  strain  your  young  back  with  such 
work.  Dear  me,  how  you  have  needed  a  mother  to 
look  after  you !  Barnabetta,  child,  how  did  you  ever 
do  all  this  work  by  yourself  ? ' ' 

"It  was  very  hard,"  Barnabetta  answered  with  a 
long  breath.  "I  got  up,  still,  at  four  o'clock  to  get 
out  my  washing  Mondays.  And  sometimes  I  'd  iron 

76 


A  Domestic  Lull 

till  ten  o  'clock  at  night.  It  made  me  feel  so  dumm !  I 
never  had  any  thoughts.  It  seems  to  me,  Mama,  since 
you  come,  as  if  I  'm  just  waking  up  out  of  sleep!  " 

"Yes — yes,"  Mrs.  Dreary  returned,  looking  at  the 
girl  fondly,  "my  efforts  are  bearing  a  beautiful  fru 
ition!" 

When  that  evening  Jacob  and  Emanuel  found  that 
their  orders  had  been  carried  out,  they  expressed 
their  appreciation,  in  the  days  that  followed,  by  yet 
more  aggressive  demands — most  of  which  were  meekly 
obeyed. 

It  was  one  evening  towards  the  end  of  that  week 
of  close  and  hard  application  to  their  household  tasks, 
that  Mrs.  Dreary  ventured  to  request  Mr.  Dreary  to 
give  her  some  money. 

' '  You  tell  me  what  you  want  it  fur, ' '  was  his  ready 
response. 

"Suffice  it  to  say,  love,  that  I  am  out  of  money — 
a  circumstance  quite  isolated  in  my  experience." 

She  was  in  the  kitchen  mixing  batter  for  the  mor 
row's  buckwheat  cakes  and  Mr.  Dreary,  seated  near 
the  stove,  had  been  reading  the  weekly  newspaper 
for  which  he  subscribed.  The  boys  were  out  and 
Barnabetta  was  at  the  piano  laboriously  practising 
finger  exercises. 

"When  you  spend  my  money,  Jool-yet,  I  'm  to 
know  what  it  's  spent  fur." 

"But  fie,  dear  Husband,  what  impertinent  curios 
ity  !  My  dear,  for  the  sake  of  argument — merely  for 

77 


Barnabetta 

that — let  me  ask  you  a  pivotal  question — namely: — 
do  you  think  you  owe  me  nothing  for  the  work  I  do 
here  for  you  and  your  sons?" 

"What  you  got  to  have,  to  be  sure  that  I  '11  buy 
you." 

"My  ideas  and  yours  as  to  what  my  requirements 
are,  may  differ,  Barnaby.  Certainly  refined  tastes 
like  mine  are  not  cheap." 

"What  do  you  want  to  buy?" 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  Barnabetta  sorely  needs 
clothing." 

"Leave  her  come  and  ast  fur  'em." 

"She  is  shamefully  shabby,  Barnaby.  She  hasn't 
a  thing  fit  to  wear  to  town." 

"She  's  not  to  go  to  runnin'  to  town.  That  I  won't 
have.  So  I  guess  her  clothes  will  do  yet  a  while." 

"No,  they  won't  do!" 

"She  ain't  got  no  refined  tastes  like  yourn.  And 
she  ain't  fancy." 

1 '  I  tell  you,  Barnaby,  she  must  have  some  clothes. ' ' 

"How  much  would  it  come  to?" 

"Not  less  than  twenty  dollars." 

Barnaby 's  feet  fell  with  a  thud  from  the  stove 
where  they  were  propped.  "Twenty  dollars  yet! 
Huh!"  He  gave  a  short,  amused  grunt.  "Do  you 
think  I  'm  Carnegie,  or  who?" 

"I,  too,  need — let  me  see — well,  some  slippers." 

"That  kin  wait  yet  a  while  till  I  go  to  town  oncet. 
I  kin  fetch  you  then  a  pair  out  mebby. ' ' 

78 


A  Domestic  Lull 

She  gave  a  little  shriek  of  laughter.  "  Fancy  my 
wearing  slippers  of  your  selection,  you  esthetic  crea 
ture!  "Well,"  she  concluded  quite  cheerfully,  "you 
refuse,  then,  to  give  me  any  money?" 

"You  ain't  proved  to  me  you  have  to  have  some." 

"The  proof  lies  in  the  fact  that  I  have  none." 

"That  suits  me;  fur  if  you  had,  you  'd  spend." 

"Naturally.  What  is  money?  A  'medium  of  ex 
change.'  Well,  well,  I  shan't  argue  with  you — 
shan't  argue  with  you  at  all,  foolish  man.  Run  away 
now — I  need  the  front  of  the  stove  here,  to  set  this 
batter  to  rise." 

Mr.  Dreary  rose  obediently  and  strode  towards  the 
back  stairs  opening  from  the  kitchen. 

' '  When  you  can  prove  to  me  you  need  somepin, ' '  he 
paused  to  repeat  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  "somepin  I 
can't  git  fur  you  some  chance  time  I  am  in  town, 
why,  then,  I  '11  give  you  what  you  got  to  have. ' ' 

"Thank  you,  Husband!" 

' '  Come  on  up  to  bed,  then,  when  you  're  through  all. 
And  tell  Barnabetta  to  come  along  too — you  and  her 
wastes  too  much  coal-oil." 

For  answer,  Juliet  broke  into  song,  her  warbling 
and  trilling  of  the  lines, 

Heart  of  my  heart,  I'm  pining  for  you, 

following  poor  Barnaby  until  he  had  closed  his  bed 
room  door. 


79 


CHAPTER  X 

MRS.    DREARY   DEALS  WITH   THE   SITUATION 

IT  was  on  Saturday  night  that  Mr.  Dreary  had  re 
fused  his  wife  money;  but  never  had  he  known 
her  to  be  in  higher  spirits  than  during  all  the  follow 
ing  day.  Scarcely  indeed  could  she  repress  herself 
within  the  bounds  deemed  at  Reinhartz  a  seemly  de 
meanor  for  the  Sabbath;  her  sprightliness  bordered 
upon  desecration  of  the  Day. 

"Mama,  shall  we  walk  out  to  Emmy  Haver- 
stick's,"  Barnabetta  asked  on  Sunday  evening,  "and 
tell  her  she  's  not  to  come  to  wash  to-morrow?  You 
know  she  thinks  she  is  to." 

"Well,  so  she  is  to,  dear." 

"But  if  you  have  no  money  to  pay  her,  Mama? 
And  father  will  chase  her  off  if  she  comes." 

"Leave  it  to  me,  daughter.  Don't  worry  your 
dear  heart  about  it." 

"But,"  Barnabetta  pleaded,  "it  might  drive  father 
to  make  me  keep  company  with  Abel.  It  would  go 
harder  than  ever  now  for  me  to  get  married." 

"Why,  lambie?" 

"Because  you  are  here !  I  could  n't  live  away  from 
you,  Mama!"  came  from  Barnabetta  involuntarily, 

80 


Mrs.  Dreary  Deals  with  the  Situation 

while  a  deep  color  dyed  her  face  at  such  unwonted 
expression  of  feeling. 

A  sudden  light  flashed  in  the  eyes  of  the  older 
woman  and  Barnabetta  saw  that  they  glistened  with 
quick  tears,  while  her  bosom  swelled  and  fell  with 
deep  emotion.  She  could  not  answer  the  girl — she 
turned  away  abruptly  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  with  an  uncomfortable  misgiving  that  Bar 
nabetta  opened  her  eyes  on  Monday  morning.  That 
the  day  would  bring  forth  trouble  for  her  father's 
wife  was  the  apprehension  uppermost  in  her  thoughts. 

But  Mrs.  Dreary's  gaiety  of  the  day  before  seemed 
in  no  wise  diminished  this  morning  as  she  and  Bar 
nabetta  together  got  the  breakfast.  By  the  time  Mr. 
Dreary  and  the  boys  came  down  to  the  dining-room 
at  a  quarter  past  six,  Emmy  Haverstick  had  nearly 
all  the  white  laundry  hanging  out  to  dry. 

"You  and  Barnabetta  was  smart  this  morning," 
Mr.  Dreary  remarked  approvingly,  as  a  glance  from 
the  dining-room  window  revealed  the  line  of  clothing 
stretched  across  the  ' ' yard. "  "I  did n 't  hear  you  git 
up  so  early." 

"  'How  doth  the  little  busy  bee  improve  each  shin 
ing  hour ! '  ' '  chirped  Mrs.  Dreary.  ' '  Here  's  your 
coffee,  Husband." 

"Say!"  spoke  up  Emanuel,  "make  fried  chicken 
fur  supper." 

"Certainly,  son,  if  you  wilL  kill  and  clean  the 
fowls." 

81 


Barnabetta 

"See  me!"  scoffed  Emanuel. 

"Barnabetta  or  I  will  mind  the  shop  for  you  while 
you  do  it." 

"Yes,  I  guess!" 

"I  have  never  put  to  death  a  hapless,  helpless 
chicken  in  my  life  and  never  shall — though  I  'm  not 
above  eating  it  when  another  does  the  sanguinary 
deed." 

"Barnabetta  she  's  used  to  it,"  said  Jacob.  "I  feel 
fur  chicken,  too,  fur  my  supper." 

"Barnabetta  used  to  it?  She  will  tell  you  far 
otherwise,  won't  you,  sister?  Only  she  never  speaks 
for  herself,  that  's  the  trouble.  No,  she  must  not 
ever  again  so  outrage  her  feelings.  So,  boys,  if  to 
gether  you  '11  behead  and  denude  the  chickens,  you 
shall  have  the  desired  supper. ' ' 

"If  there  ain't  Emmy  Haverstick  out  there  hang- 
in'  clothes!" 

It  was  Emanuel  who  blurted  it  out.  The  shock  of 
it  to  Mr.  Dreary,  as  one  look  towards  the  window  con 
firmed  Emanuel 's  announcement,  made  his  brain 
swim,  so  confident  had  he  been  that  Juliet  was  now 
entirely  acquiescent. 

"Yes,"  cried  Mrs.  Dreary  happily,  "an  excellent 
laundress!  I  think,  daughter,"  she  addressed  Bar 
nabetta,  "she  will  be  entirely  through  by  ten  A.M., 
which  will  enable  us  to  get  some  of  the  ironing  done 
this  morning  and  thus  give  us  time  for  a  refreshing 
little  jaunt  this  afternoon." 

82 


Mrs.  Dreary  Deals  with  the  Situation 

"You  ain't  got  no  money !"  pronounced  Mr.  Dreary 
thickly  when  he  could  get  his  breath  to  speak,  as  he 
rose  heavily  from  the  table,  "to  pay  Emmy  Haver- 
stick  with!  Now  I  '11  show  you  oncet,  Jool-yet,  if  I 
mean  it  when  I  speak!" 

He  strode  from  the  room,  followed  by  a  tender 
admonition  from  his  wife  not  to  get  his  feet  wet  in 
the  grass  if  he  were  going  out  to  the  laundress. 

While  he  was  gone,  she  kept  up  a  fire  of  sparkling 
chatter,  in  spite  of  the  solemn  silence  with  which  all 
her  remarks  were  met. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  Mr.  Dreary  returned — a 
look  of  stubborn  satisfaction  having  replaced  his 
apoplectic  chagrin — and  reseated  himself  at  the  table. 

"I  chased  her  straight  home!  And  yous  two," 
with  sharp  glances  towards  his  wife  and  daughter, 
"will  git  at  and  finish  that  there  wash!" 

"Oh,  but,  Husband,"  cried  Juliet,  "what  a  laugh 
these  simple  rural  villagers  will  have  at  your  ex 
pense!" 

"At  yourn!"  he  corrected  her.  "I  tole  her  I 
didn't  hire  her  and  she  wasn't  to  work  here  at  my 
place  unlest  7  hired  her — and  now  she  should  take 
herself  right  off,  fur  you  had  n't  no  money  to  pay  her 
and  I  wasn't  payin'  a  person  I  didn't  hire!" 

"You  sent  her  away  without  any  remuneration  for 
what  she  had  done  this  morning?  But  it  is  the  law, 
you  know,  Barnaby,  that  labor  must  be  paid." 

"Well,"  he  admitted,  "I  give  her  a  quarter  fur 
83 


Mrs.  Dreary  Deals  with  the  Situation 

what  she  done  a 'ready,  but  I  put  it  plain  that  if  she 
done  any  more  work  'round  this  place  she  'd  do  it  fur 
nothin'!  So  she  ain't  likely  to  come  ag'in  no  matter 
how  much  you  run  after  her.  You  see,  Jool-yet,  I 
ain't  to  be  worked  like  this  hereJ  You  don't  know 
me  yet!  You  and  Barnabetta  is  going  to  do  up  the 
rest  part  of  that  there  wash!  Do  you  hear  me,  Bar 
nabetta  ? "  he  sharply  demanded  of  her. 

"Of  course  she  hears  you,  dear,  and  very  interest 
ing  conversation  it  is,  too.  Is  your  coffee  palatable?'* 

"And,  Barnabetta,"  he  commanded  the  girl's  at 
tention,  ignoring  his  wife 's  inquiry, ' '  I  don 't  give  you 
dare  to  go  runnin'  any  this  after.  You  understand. 
You  darsent!" 

"Unfortunately  the  poor  child  does  understand 
your  peculiar  style  of  speech,  Barnaby,  though  I  'm 
sure  I  wish  she  didn't,  for  it  is  so  regrettably  far 
from  good  English!  'Go  runnin'!'"  she  repeated 
derisively. 

"Whether  it  's  English  or  whether  it  's  Dutch, 
she  'd  better  mind  to  it,  that  's  all ! "  he  commanded 
as,  having  swallowed  his  coffee,  he  again  rose. 

No  sooner  had  he  and  the  boys  gone  than  Mrs. 
Dreary  flew  to  the  door  of  the  cellar  where,  according 
to  previous  arrangement,  Emmy  Haverstick  had  be 
taken  herself  to  await  developments. 

' '  Come  here,  Emmy, ' '  called  Juliet.  ' '  Now,  then, ' ' 
she  stopped  her  half-way  up-stairs,  "as  to  the  rest  of 
the  laundry,  just  take  out  my  things  and  Barnabetta 's, 

84 


Mrs.  Dreary  Deals  with  the  Situation 

carry  them  home  with  you,  wash  them  and  bring  them 
back  this  evening,  when  I  shall  adequately  compen 
sate  you.  Leave  the  men's  things  exactly  where  they 
are — on  the  cellar  floor. ' ' 

"Mama,"  pleaded  Barnabetta,  "leave  me  finish 
all,  won't  you?" 

"Daughter,"  said  Juliet  solemnly,  "Emmy  shall 
wash  our  clothing  and  the  rest  shall  lie  where  it  now 
is,  until  your  father  shall  send  for  Emmy  to  come  and 
finish  it.  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it. ' ' 

The  monotony  of  Mr.  Dreary's  soldering  and  ham 
mering  that  morning  in  his  shop  was  varied  by  con 
stant  excursions  to  the  window  overlooking  the  back 
yard,  across  which  stretched  the  wash-line. 

He  presently  contemplated  with  satisfaction  his 
wife's  wiry  figure  flitting  about  to  take  from  the  line 
the  "white  pieces"  when  they  were  dry.  But  his 
satisfaction  was  turned  to  annoyance  when,  as  the 
morning  moved  on,  neither  she  nor  Barnabetta  came 
forth  to  hang  up  the  "colored  wash."  What  could 
they  mean  by  being  so  late  with  this  second  stage 
of  the  job?  Why,  if  a  rain  came  up  or  the  sun  got 
behind  a  cloud,  the  clothes  wouldn't  get  dry  that 
day! 

By  eleven  o'clock,  as  there  was  still  no  sign  of  the 
work  getting  done,  he  could  stand  it  no  longer,  but 
strode  over  to  the  house  to  find  out  what  was  the  mat 
ter. 

"Barnabetta!"  he  shouted  as  he  did  not  find  her 
85 


Barnabetta 

in  the  kitchen.  There  was  no  response;  the  house 
was  silent.  He  ran  down  into  the  cellar,  but  no  one 
was  there,  and  the  "wash"  was  lying  where  Emmy 
Haverstick  had  left  it. 

Going  up-stairs  again,  he  at  last  found  his  wife  in 
the  dining-room  setting  the  tahle  for  dinner. 

"Where  's  Barnabetta  at?"  he  demanded  an 
grily. 

"Barnabetta?  Where  is  she?  Let  me  see — oh, 
yes !  She  's  gone  to  town. ' ' 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"She  took  the — at  least  I  think  perhaps  she  did — 
eleven  o'clock  car.  That  is  to  say,  I  hope  she  caught 
it,  though  I  can't  affirm  it  positively." 

' '  Town !  Barnabetta  's  went  to  town !  After  what 
I  spoke  to  her ! ' ' 

' '  Don 't  be  anxious  about  her — I  expect  to  go  in  my 
self  after  dinner  and  I  shall  bring  her  safely  home 
again  to  her  fond  family!" 

"You  stand  up  and  tell  me  to  my  face  she  's  went 
to  town  when  I  tole  her  she  darsent  ?  And  the  wash 
layin'  down  there!  Where  did  she  git  the  money 
anyhow  ? ' ' 

"I  advanced  it  to  her.  You  can  pay  me  back  when 
convenient. ' ' 

"You  gev  it  to  her!  Where  did  you  git  it? 
Didn't  you  tell  me  you  was  out  of  money?  Do  you 
tell  lies  yet  ?" 

"Under  some  circumstances,  dear,  prevarication  is 
86 


Mrs.  Dreary  Deals  with  the  Situation 

sometimes  resorted  to  on  a  higher  moral  plane  than 
would  be  the  truth  under  the  same — " 

"  Where  did  you  git  some  money  if  you  was  out  of 
money?"  he  harshly  interrupted. 

' '  Oh,  fie,  you  must  not  ask  such  personal  questions ! 
Run  back  to  your  shop,  lambie,  you  hinder  me. 

Lost!     The  golden  minutes! 
Sixty  diamond  seconds! 

sings  one  of  our  poets.  Browning,  possibly,  or  maybe 
Margaret  Sangster.  I  want  to  get  done  early  to  go 
to  town." 

"And  leave  that  there  wash  layin'  down  the  cel 
lar!"  gasped  the  infuriated  man. 

"Well,  mine  and  Barnabetta's  are  not  there;  the 
laundress  took  them  home  with  her." 

Mr.  Dreary  sank  into  a  chair.  "Took  yourn  and 
Barnabetta's!  And  mine  and  the  boys'  you  left 
layin'!  Who  's  a-goin'  to  do  ourn  then,  heh?" 

"That  's  what  I  'm  wondering,  Barnaby,  inasmuch 
as  you  sent  away  the  only  available  laundress  in  Rein- 
hartz  Station.  You  '11  have  to  settle  it,  now,  as  best 
you  can. ' ' 

"I  '11  learn  Barnabetta  when  she  gits  home  oncet ! 
She  's  been  actin'  up  ever  since  you  come!  Now  to 
day  she  's  went  too  far!  When  she  's  livin'  in  my 
house  she  '11  obey  to  me !  Oncet  fur  all,  when  she 
comes  home  she  's  a-goin'  to  git  learnt!" 

"  'Fathers  provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath,' 
87 


Barnabetta 

saith  the  Scriptures.  No  parents  ever  had  a  more 
dutiful,  lovely  daughter  than  ours,  Barnaby. ' ' 

"Yes,  till  you  come!  Now  she  's  gittin'  spoilt  fur 
me  somepin  fierce.  But  I  '11  put  a  stop  to  that!" 

"But  I  thought  I  explained  to  you  last  Monday, 
Husband,  that  Barnabetta  and  I  will  not  do  your 
washing.  Indeed,  I  may  as  well  state  to  you  now 
that  I  will  not  do  any  man's  housekeeping  for  my 
mere  board  and  lodging.  I  must  have  adequate  com 
pensation  for  my  services. ' ' 

"You  talk  like  as  if  you  was  hired!  Ain't  it  a 
wife's  dooty  to  do  the  housework?" 

"Not  without  adequate  compensation,  justly  pro 
portionate  to  the  husband's  means." 

"Aw — stop  slingin'  big  words!  What  I  want  to 
know  is,  where  did  you  git  some  more  money?" 

"Not  from  you,  dear." 

Here  the  clock  struck  twelve  and  Emanuel  coming 
in  from  the  shop,  Mrs.  Dreary  went  out  to  the  kitchen 
to  bring  the  dinner  from  the  stove,  while  Mr.  Dreary 
bitterly  related  to  his  son  the  heavy,  tragic  fact  that 
his  wife  and  daughter  refused  to  "wash"  for  him  and 
the  boys. 

"It  will  seem  odd  to  you,  Emanuel,"  smiled  his 
stepmother  as  the  three  of  them  sat  down  to  the  table, 
"to  have  to  pay  some  one  for  doing  what  sister  has 
always  done  for  you  without  dreaming  of  receiv 
ing  any  compensation!  All  wrong,  all  wrong,  you 
naughty  men !  You  should  have  taken  far  better  care 


Mrs.  Dreary  Deals  with  the  Situation 

of  her.  Now  that  I  have  charge  of  her,  she  's  going 
to  have  her  chance ! ' ' 

' '  This  here  ends  it ! "  reaffirmed  Mr.  Dreary.  ' '  She 
keeps  comp'ny  and  gits  married  or  either  she  goes  to 
Reading  and  takes  a  job.  I  ain't  keepin'  two  idle 
women !  And  you,  Jool-yet,  you  fooled  me  when  you 
sayed  now  your  money  's  all !  Well,  wait  till  it  is 
all  oncet  and  I  '11  take  care  you  don't  git  hold  of  no 
more!  It  can't  go  long  now  till  what  you  had  is  all, 
and  then  you  '11  have  to  quit  this  crazy  actin'!  Yes, 
any  one  kin  see  how  bad  it  goes  when  women  has  the 
handlin '  of  money ! ' ' 

"I  want  my  shirts  washed  and  ironed!"  Emanuel 
stated  threateningly. 

' '  Of  course  you  do,  Emanuel.  I  think  Emmy  Hav- 
erstick  will  do  them  for  you  if  you  carry  them  to  her. 
A  nice  walk  for  you ;  only  a  mile  out  the  pike,  I  think. 
A  very  good  thing,  too,  for  you  and  Jacob  and  Papa 
to  learn  the  financial  value  of  domestic  labor.  You 
will  find,  when  you  come  to  pay  others,  that  it  is  worth 
rather  more  than  what  Barnabetta  has  received  for 
it!" 

Meantime,  while  this  conversation  was  going  on, 
Barnabetta,  hiding  in  her  bedroom  just  over  the  din 
ing-room,  whither  she  had  been  despatched  by  her 
stepmother  on  the  approach  of  her  father,  could  hear, 
through  the  register  in  the  floor,  every  word  spoken 
in  the  room  below.  She  waited  in  momentary  dread 
lest  her  father,  provoked  too  far,  should  rise  up  and 

89 


Barnabetta 

do  what  she  feared  he  would  not  scruple  to  do — use 
brute  force  in  compelling  obedience  from  his  wife. 
It  was  not  for  herself  that  she  was  afraid.  Not  since 
her  childhood  had  she  known  the  sense  of  fear,  so 
stultified  had  she  become  to  either  pain  or  joy.  Her 
nearest  approach  to  suffering  had  been  her  sensitive 
shrinking  from  the  brutality  which  men  seemed  to 
her  to  embody.  But  now  that,  at  the  touch  of  kind 
ness  and  affection,  her  soul  was  awakening,  she  was 
learning  the  meaning  of  suffering  in  its  keenest  form 
— the  dread,  the  pain,  of  seeing  a  beloved  one  hurt. 

She  marveled  at  her  father's  continued  forbear 
ance  with  his  wife,  though  she  could  see  it  was  in  part 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  felt  her  still  to  be  a  compara 
tive  stranger  to  him  and  that  her  ''high  education" 
and  what  Jacob  sneeringly  called  her  "tony  ways," 
kept  him  in  awe  of  her.  She  did  not  realize,  how 
ever,  that  by  something  other  than  all  these  things 
was  he  held  in  check;  by  that  which  always  cows  a 
bully — her  fearlessness. 

But  of  one  thing  Barnabetta  was  certain.  What 
ever  considerations  restrained  her  father  in  his  deal 
ings  with  his  wife,  there  existed  none  that  could 
withhold  his  hand  from  enforcing  obedience  where  his 
daughter  was  concerned.  His  threats  with  regard  to 
herself  were  not  mere  words.  He  would,  without 
doubt,  carry  them  out  (as  he  had  affirmed  he  would) 
that  very  night. 


90 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  JAUNT   TO   TOWN 

THE  moment  Mr.  Dreary  and  Emanuel  were 
gone,  Mrs.  Dreary  ran  up  to  Barnabetta's  hid 
ing-place. 

"As  I  told  Papa  you  were  in  town,  you  must  put 
me  in  the  right,  dear,  by  going  to  town.  We  will 
buy  a  coat-suit  for  you  this  afternoon.  Get  ready  at 
once,  daughter." 

Barnabetta  had  reached  the  stage,  now,  where  with 
out  questioning  she  acquiesced  to  any  proposition  her 
stepmother  might  make.  How,  without  any  money, 
they  were  to  get  to  town  and  buy  a  coat-suit;  why 
they  should  recklessly  force  her  father  s  threat  to 
make  her  "keep  company"  with  Abel  Buchter;  how 
she  could  hope  to  escape  dire  penalties  for  such  open 
disobedience — these  questions  passed  through  her 
mind  only  to  be  set  aside  to  await  developments. 

Indeed,  so  little  did  they  trouble  her  that  she  was 
able  to  extract  from  this  rare  experience  of  an  after 
noon  in  town  almost  as  keen  a  pleasure  as  she  was 
coming  to  know  in  the  books  over  which  she  now  pored 
night  after  night.  The  shops,  the  new  blue  cloth  suit, 
the  ice-cream  soda  and  finally  the  picture  show,  were 

91 


Barnabetta 

all  an  intoxication  of  dissipation.  Come  what  might, 
she  had  had  her  one  great  fling,  and  it  was  worth  any 
price  she  might  have  to  pay  at  her  father's  hands. 

"A  little  youthful  gaiety,  daughter,  is  what  you 
need  to  bring  you  into  tune  with  life's  music,"  Mrs. 
Dreary  assured  her  as  they  sipped  their  ice-cream 
sodas. 

"Before  you  came,"  smiled  Barnabetta  happily,  "I 
was  so  dumm,  I  never  even  wanted  pleasure. ' ' 

Their  first  call  in  town  had  been  at  a  lawyer's 
office  where  Mrs.  Dreary's  colloquy  with  the  lawyer 
had  revealed  to  Barnabetta  that  her  stepmother  had 
previously  written  to  him  countermanding  Mr. 
Dreary's  instructions  as  to  the  disposal  of  her  " in 
terest-money"  and  ordering  that  hereafter  this  inter 
est  should  not  be  sent  to  her  by  mail,  but  held  for  her 
at  this  office  until  called  for  by  herself. 

They  went  next  to  a  bank  where  Barnabetta  saw 
with  awe  fifty  dollars  counted  out  into  her  step 
mother's  hands.  She  felt  apprehensive,  as  they  left 
the  bank,  lest  a  brigand  waylay  and  knock  them  down, 
seize  the  vast  sum  and  make  away  with  it. 

"You  see,  my  love,"  Mrs.  Dreary  explained  dur 
ing  an  intermission  at  the  picture  show,  "your  dear 
Papa  is  so  unaware  of  any  other  view  of  a  woman 
and  a  wife  than  his  own  weird  view,  that  it  never 
occurred  to  him  my  lawyer  might  not  recognize  my 
husband's  authority  to  dispose  of  my  money.  Bar- 
naby  is  lamentably  unenlightened  as  to  the  laws  of 

92 


A  Jaunt  to  Town 

Pennsylvania  relative  to  a  wife's  rights  in  her  own 
property.  Were  he  familiar  with  these  laws  he  would 
disapprove  of  them.  But  I,"  she  added,  "would 
never  have  married  in  a  state  where  the  law  gave  my 
husband  control  of  my  property — if  indeed  there  is 
any  longer  in  America  so  uncivilized  a  state.  Poor 
Barnaby  merely  wasted  a  two-cent  stamp  in  return 
ing  my  check;  and  a  sheet  of  paper,  also,  in  writing 
out  his  instructions  to  my  lawyer;  a  waste  which  I 
am  sure  will  hurt  him ! ' ' 

"Mama,"  Barnabetta  now  ventured  to  ask  the 
question  which  ever  since  her  father's  marriage  had 
puzzled  her,  "why  did  you  marry  father?" 

"My  dear,"  Mrs.  Dreary  readily  answered,  "I 
wanted  something  to  love,  to  cherish.  You  will  say, 
and  rightly,  that  your  dear  father  was  not  an  es 
pecially  endearing  object.  But  it  was  not  he  whom 
I  hoped  to  cherish.  My  dear,  it  was  the  too  long 
repressed  mother-yearning  in  me  that  demanded  ex 
pression.  More  than  for  anything  else  in  life  I 
longed  for  a  daughter.  In  short,  it  was  for  you,  dear 
child,  that  I  married  Barnaby  Dreary.  And  need  I 
tell  you  how  much  more  beautiful  than  my  dreams 
has  been  the  fruition  of  my  hopes?" 

To  Barnabetta  the  realization  that  she  meant  to 
her  father's  wife  all  that  this  dear  mother  meant  to 
her,  thrilled  her,  made  life  seem  full  to  overflowing 
and  precious  beyond  belief. 

So  illumined  was  her  young  face  by  the  light  from 
93 


Barnabetta 

witfiin  that  it  transformed  her  as  completely  from  the 
listless,  dreary  maiden  she  had  been,  as  did  the  tail 
ored  suit  and  new  hat  she  wore  home  alter  past  recog 
nition  her  figure  and  general  aspect.  So  changed  was 
she,  in  fact,  that  Abel  Buchter,  seated  opposite  and 
behind  her  in  the  car  going  out  to  Reinhartz,  at  five 
o'clock,  entirely  failed,  during  several  minutes'  con 
templation  of  the  attractive-looking  girl  across  the 
aisle,  to  recognize  her — and*  when  he  suddenly  did 
so,  the  shock  of  it  came  perilously  near  to  bringing 
a  shout  from  his  lips.  He  flushed  hotly  and  for  an 
instant  his  head  swam  apoplectically. 

When  after  a  few  minutes  his  blurred  vision  cleared, 
he  scarcely  knew  whether  delight  or  chagrin  were  his 
dominant  emotions;  it  was,  of  course,  pleasant  to  see 
Barnabetta  looking  so  happy  and  dressed  ' '  so  stylish ' ' 
that  he  had  mistaken  her  for  "such  a  swell  towner"; 
but  it  was  at  the  same  time  alarming  to  find  her  thus 
radiant  quite  independently  of  him;  for  his  dream 
of  years  had  been  that  he  might  be  the  fairy  prince  to 
bring  about  just  this  very  transformation  in  her. 

"I  can't  believe  it  's  her  lookin'  that  tony!"  he 
muttered  to  himself  ruefully.  ' '  Why,  with  these  new 
clothes  she  's  got  on  she  might  be  passed  off  for  any 
body  at  all!  Now  wouldn't  a  fellah  be  proud  to 
have  his  wife  looking  that  refined!" 

He  wondered  what  could  be  the  explanation  of  all 
these  unprecedented  circumstances?  What  kind  of 
a  specimen  of  stepmother  was  this  that,  so  far  from 

94 


A  Jaunt  to  Town 

trying  to  "get  the  better"  of  her  grown  stepdaughter, 
went  about  with  her  "that  friendly" ;  took  her  "pleas 
ure-seeking"  as  never  in  her  life  had  she  been  per 
mitted  to  go;  togged  her  out  in  new  clothing;  caused 
the  expression  of  her  face  to  change  so  wonderfully 
as  Barnabetta's  had  changed  in  the  past  few  weeks? 

"Is  the  old  maid  as  good-hearted  as  she  left  on  to 
be  then  ?  And  is  it  her  cash  that  's  fitting  out  Barna- 
betta  like  this,  or  has  she  got  such  a  pull  on  Barnaby 
Dreary?" 

The  appearance  of  the  ladies  was  indeed  so  elegant 
that  Abel  felt  abashed  at  the  idea  of  accosting  them. 
To  feel  abashed  was  a  novel  sensation  to  Abel,  accus 
tomed  as  he  was  to  being  the  social  and  intellectual 
Beau  Brummel  of  Reinhartz.  And  to  feel  backward 
before  little,  overworked  Barnabetta,  his  one-time 
pupil,  and  before  that  lanky  spinster  whom  Barnaby 
Dreary  had  married!  Impatient  with  himself,  he 
forced  himself  across  the  aisle  to  the  seat  in  front  of 
them,  stumbling  into  it  so  awkwardly  that  he  almost 
precipitated  himself  into  Mrs.  Dreary's  lap. 

"Ach,  you  must  please  excuse  me — I  overstepped 
my  ankle  yet!"  he  apologized,  blushing  furiously  as 
he  addressed  them  over  the  back  of  the  seat.  "I 
was  so  surprised  to  see  you  going  for  once,  Barna 
betta." 

"I  don't  wonder  it  made  you  stumble!"  gaily  re 
torted  Mrs.  Dreary,  while  Barnabetta  smiled  on  him 
with  a  happy  friendliness  never  before  bestowed  upon 

95 


Barnabetta 

him  by  her.  "And  now,"  continued  Mrs.  Dreary, 
"that  she  has  made  the  break,  she  '11  astonish  you  yet 
further,  Mr.  Buchter,  by  her  'going,'  as  you  quaintly 
call  it." 

"  'Quaintly?'  I  didn't  know  I  talked  'quaint,'  " 
said  Abel,  on  his  mettle  to  show  this  fine-spoken 
woman,  in  Barnabetta 's  presence,  that  he  could  hold 
his  own  with  educated  people.  "To  be  sure,  I  know 
I  speak  much  more  correct  than  most  around  here, 
seeing  I  had  a  year  at  Normal  School.  I  never  spoke 
incorrect  grammar  but  twice  yet,  since  I  grad-yated, 
and  those  two  times  I  knew  it  as  quick  as  I  done 
it." 

"Indeed?"  commented  Mrs.  Dreary  sarcastically. 

"Yes,  indeed.  I  guess  you  could  easy  see  it  at  me 
that  I  'm  better  educated  than  some  at  Reinhartz. 
I  write  pieces  for  the  newspapers,  too,  sometimes — • 
such  a  weekly  letter,  you  mind  of,  to  The  Reading 
Eagle." 

"Abel,"  said  Barnabetta,  "you  ought  to  stop  in 
some  time  and  see  all  Mama's  books!  I  didn't 
know  there  were  that  many  books!  I  'm  reading 
them,  every  one,  in  the  evenings  when  I  get  time." 

' '  "What  are  some  of  the  titles  ? ' '  asked  Abel,  assum 
ing  an  intellectual  frown. 

"Augusta  Evans'  works,  Hall  Game's,  Myrtle 
Reed's,  E.  P.  Roe's,—" 

"Such  novels,  you  mean?  Better  be  reading  in 
structive  works,  Barnabetta.  Novels  are  fakes — 

96 


A  Jaunt  to  Town 

that  's  what  novels  are — fakes.  I  read  four  or  five 
or  so,  a 'ready,  so  I  know." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Dreary  loftily,  "we  have  also 
on  our  shelves  Macaulay's  England,  Gibbon's  Rome 
(she  pronounced  it  Jibbon),  Shakespeare  Complete. 
You  '11  hardly  say  they  are  not  instructive  works, 
Mr.  Buchter?" 

"Yes,  Shakespeare  Complete,"  repeated  Barna- 
betta  breathlessly. 

"Shakespeare?"  also  repeated  Abel  critically. 
"The  man  that  printed  plays,"  he  nodded  intelli 
gently.  "Well,  now,  I  often  took  notice  that  Shake 
speare  uses  incorrect  grammar  sometimes.  He  both 
uses  incorrect  grammar  and  he  both  uses  Obsolete 
Expressions. ' ' 

"Well,"  retorted  Mrs.  Dreary  testily,  "Shake 
speare  may  have  said  a  number  of  things  we  would 
now  call  technically  incorrect.  But  what  could  you 
expect — living  away  back  in  those  olden  times?  It  's 
quite  excusable." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Abel  generously  admitted,  "I  know  he 
was  a  distinguished  writer.  Considered  the  best 
writer  of  his  day,  I  believe.  His  pieces  are  all  deep 
anyhow,  if  they  ain't  so  very  interesting.  Say! 
Some  awful  queer  things  came  into  his  head,  still! 
— some  things  came  into  his  head  that  never  would 
have  come  into  mine!  I  don't  think  I  could  get  to 
gether  such  a  play  if  I  tried.  Yes,  if  ever  I  went  to 
Europe  I  would  certainly  visit  the  tomb  of  John 

97 


Barnabetta 

Shakespeare.     Have  you  ever  been  to  Europe,  Mrs. 
Dreary?" 

"Not  as  yet,  Mr.  Buchter.  But  Barnabetta  and 
I  contemplate  going  together  in  the  near  future." 

This  was  startling  news  indeed  to  Barnabetta. 

"Why  don't  you  go,  Mr.  Buchter,  in  one  of  your 
summer  vacations?"  Mrs.  Dreary  demanded  rather 
severely.  "You  owe  it  to  yourself  as  an  Educator  of 
Reinhartz!" 

"I  would,  if  I  was  St.  Peter  and  could  walk 
across ! ' ' 

"If  one  waits  until  he  can  afford  to  go  to  Europe, 
Mr.  Buchter,  he  will  probably  never  get  there.  Talk 
ing  of  Normal  Schools,  there  is  nothing  more  edu 
cative — or  should  I  say  educational? — than  travel." 

"Yes,  well,  but,"  said  Abel,  feeling  bound  to  up 
hold  an  opinion  of  his  own,  "if  it  was  always  safe  to 
cross  over.  Look  at  that  Titanic!" 

"No  wonder  it  sank,"  retorted  Mrs.  Dreary,  who 
did  not  relish  the  presence  of  Barnabetta 's  would-be 
suitor,  her  ambitions  for  her  daughter  growing  larger 
every  day  with  the  growth  of  her  love  for  the  girl. 
"How  could  you  expect  it  not  to  sink  when  they 
tempted  Providence  by  calling  it  unsinkable?  There 
was  nothing  left  for  God  to  do  but  prove  His  omnipo 
tence  and  punish  their  blasphemy ! ' ' 

"Well,  now,"  said  Abel,  startled,  "that  view  I 
never  thought  of  before.  That  might  explain  it  to 
be  sure." 

98 


A  Jaunt  to  Town 

But  lie  felt  such  themes  to  be  rather  too  deep  water 
for  him,  and  he  turned,  for  refuge,  to  Barnabetta. 

"Been  to  town  to  buy  yourself  a  frock  or  what, 
Barnabetta?" 

"Yes,  Abel." 

"Your  Pop  's  getting  easier  with  you,  is  he,  since 
he  got  married?" 

"No — no,"  Barnabetta  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"But  you've  got  it  better,  Barnabetta!  Why,  I 
saw  you  out  buggy-riding  here  last  Monday !  It  sur 
prised  me  something  wonderful ! ' ' 

"Yes,  I  guess,  Abel!" 

"What  does  your  Pop  have  to  say  to  your  going 
like  that?" 

"He  don't  uphold  it." 

Abel  was  hardly  sorry  to  hear  that.  If  things  were 
too  pleasant  at  her  home,  perhaps  he  could  not  get  her 
to  listen  to  his  wooing,  even  though  her  father  did 
now  consent  to  it. 

"Mr.  Buchter,"  Mrs.  Dreary  addressed  him,  "you 
being  an  Educator,  I  want  to  ask  you  to  secure  for 
me  some  school  catalogues.  Directly  after  Christmas 
I  mean  to  send  Barnabetta  to  a  college-preparatory 
school." 

This  was  even  more  startling  to  Barnabetta  than 
the  announcement  of  a  trip  to  Europe.  Abel,  too, 
looked  shocked. 

"Why  don't  you  choose  Schultztown  Normal  then?" 
he  asked  almost  sullenly. 

99 


Barnabetta 

"That  is  your  Alma  Mater,  Mr.  Buchter?" 

"It  's  anyhow  where  I  studied  at." 

"Then  I  prefer  another  school.  No  personal  in 
sinuation  intended,"  she  said  with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 
"But  I  want — not  a  Normal  School — but  a  college- 
preparatory,  Mr.  Buchter.  If  possible,  Barnabetta 
shall  attend  college." 

"Does  her  Pop  know?"  Abel  feebly  inquired. 

"Her  father,  Mr.  Buchter,  will  be  consulted  in  the 
near  future." 

Barnabetta,  noting  Abel's  discouragement,  felt  a 
pang  for  him.  He  had  always  been  kind  to  her. 

"It  looks  funny,  Abel,"  she  said  in  an  attempt  at 
consoling  friendliness,  "to  see  you  coming  from  town 
on  a  school-day  yet.  Did  you  have  to  go  to  a  dentist, 
or  what?" 

Again  Abel  blushed.  He  could  not  tell  her  that  the 
package  he  was  carrying  contained  a  new  shirt  and 
necktie  with  which  he  hoped  to  win  her  difficult  re 
gard  when,  on  the  following  evening,  he  should  come 
to  "sit  up"  with  her. 

"Saturday  was  so  sloppy  I  didn't  get  to  town,"  he 
answered,  "  so  I  went  this  after. ' ' x 

They  had  now  reached  the  end  of  their  ride  and  as 
Abel's  walk  from  the  car  did  not  lie  in  the  direction 
of  the  Dreary  home,  he  parted  from  them  here — his 
brain  almost  reeling  with  its  over-abundant  food  for 

i  Afternoon. 

100 


A  Jaunt  to  Town 

contemplation  afforded  by  this  unexpected  encounter 
with  the  girl  he  loved  and  her  redoubtable  stepmother 
— whose  parting  words  to  him  were  a  reminder  to 
write  at  once  for  the  school  catalogues. 


101 


CHAPTER  XII 

MRS.   DREARY  RESORTS  TO  HEROIC   MEASURES 

AT  supper  that  evening,  Barnabetta  did  not  ap 
pear.  She  was  still  away  from  home,  Mrs. 
Dreary  informed  Barnaby  who,  having  come  in  with 
the  firm  purpose  to  deal  with  his  daughter  summarily, 
was  daunted,  nay,  confounded,  at  not  finding  her 
there.  The  boys,  too,  found  difficulty  in  adjusting 
themselves  to  the  unprecedented  circumstance  of  their 
sister's  absence. 

' '  The  minister 's  wife, ' '  Mrs.  Dreary  explained,  ' '  at 
my  instigation,  invited  her  to  supper." 

' '  She  *s  to  ast  me  if  she  dare  go  off  on  coinp  'ny ! ' ' 
Barnaby  angrily  affirmed. 

"Abel  Buchter  is  to  see  her  safe  home  to-night," 
Mrs.  Dreary  improvised,  tossing  a  sop  to  Cerberus. 
"At  least  I  should  not  wonder  if  he  did.  He  came 
out  on  the  car  with  us  and  he  and  Barnabetta  con 
versed  together." 

But  Mr.  Dreary  looked  only  a  shade  mollified  by  the 
sop.  ' '  So  you  went  to  town,  did  you  ?  "Well,  Barna 
betta  is  certainly  a-goin'  to  ketch  it  when  she  comes 
home  oncet ! ' ' 

"You  '11  have  to  be  careful  not  to  discourage  Abel. 
102 


Mrs.  Dreary  Resorts  to  Heroic  Measures 

He  has  enough  to  discourage  him,  goodness  knows! 
No  young  man  likes  to  'keep  company,'  as  you 
quaintly  express  it,  with  a  girl  so  ill-clad  as  Barna- 
betta  always  is.  You  '11  simply  have  to  provide  bet 
ter  clothing  for  her,  Barnaby,  if  you  want  her  to 
marry. ' ' 

"Say!"  broke  in  Jacob,  "'where  's  the  fried  chicken 
I  sayed  I  felt  fur?  I  don't  see  none." 

"Nor  me  neither,"  said  Emanuel. 

' '  I  would  n  't  be  so  cruel  as  to  fry  live  chickens  with 
their  feathers  on,  sons!"  returned  Mrs.  Dreary  cheer 
ily.  "How  lonesome  it  is  without  sister,  isn't  it, 
boys?  Dear  me,  how  ever  will  we  bear  up  when  she 
marries? — though  I  am  inclined  to  advise  her  not 
to  marry.  Marriage  is,  of  course,  a  very  advantage 
ous  state  for  a  man,  but  I  fail  to  see  what  good  accrues 
to  a  woman  from  wedlock.  Men  should  certainly 
marry,  but  I  am  convinced  that  women  should  not. ' ' 

"Me  and  Emanuel  we  pay  our  board  and  we  're 
to  have  what  we  feel  fur  havin'  at  our  meals,  so  we 
are!"  Jacob  harshly  affirmed. 

"No  doubt  you  can  find  some  one  in  the  village, 
dears,"  Mrs.  Dreary  said  soothingly,  "who  will  kill 
and  clean  the  chickens  when  you  want  me  to  fry  them, 
since  you  don't  care  to  do  it  yourselves;  and  I  don't 
blame  you;  it  isn't  agreeable  work.  Barnabetta  and 
I,"  she  turned  to  her  husband,  "had  a  very  pleasant 
afternoon  shopping  and  enjoying  ourselves.  The 
dear  child  is  really  learning,  under  my  guidance,  the 

103 


Barnabetta 

meaning  of  pleasure.  I  took  her  to  a  moving-picture 
show. ' ' 

"I  '11  learn  her  to  enjoy  another  kind  of  moving- 
picture  show,  oncet  she  comes  home ! ' ' 

' '  Oh,  here  is  a  little  billet-doux  for  you,  Husband, ' ' 
was  her  reply,  taking  an  envelope  from  her  pocket 
and  laying  it  before  him  on  the  table.  "A  little  bill. 
A  coat-suit  and  silk  waist  for  Barnabetta.  Foresee 
ing  that  we  should  perhaps  come  out  on  the  car  with 
Abel  Buchter,  I  had  the  tact,  Barnaby,  to  clothe 
Barnabetta,  before  we  joined  the  young  man,  in  such 
apparel  that  he  wouldn't  have  a  shamed  face  to  sit 
with  us." 

Barnaby 's  hand  fumbled  to  extract  the  bill.  At 
sight  of  the  figures  on  it  his  eyes  bulged. 

"Twenty-five  dollars!  Twenty-five  yet!  I  send 
back  the  things!  She  darsen't  keep  'em!  I  won't 
do  it  to  pay  it !"  he  choked. 

"As  she  has  them  on  now,  you  can't  send  them 
back.  I  will  pay  the  bill  on  one  condition,  namely — ' 

"How  will  you  pay  it,  heh?  Ain't  I  tole  you 
a 'ready  that  I  wrote  off  a  letter  to  that  there  lawyer 
tellin'  him  he  ain't  to  send  out  no  more  interest  to 
you!  And  here  you  go  buyin'  without  astin'  me  and 
chargin'  up  bills  to  me!  Twenty-five  dollars  yet!" 

"And  that  reminds  me,  dear,  I  had  an  extremely 
interesting  interview  with  my  lawyer  this  afternoon. 
I  told  him  that  though  I  had  never  yet  touched  my 
capital,  I  might  in  the  near  future  borrow  on  it. 

104 


Mrs.  Dreary  Resorts  to  Heroic  Measures 

Barnabetta  and  I  might  want  to  take  a  little  trip," 
she  airily  announced,  "to  the  Other  Side.  There  's 
Paris,  the  City  of  Sin — I  've  always  yearned  to  see 
it.  A  whited  sepulchre  they  say  it  is,  alas ! ' ' 

Barnaby  turned  pale.  "Is  that  what  you  are  doin' 
to  git  ahead  of  me — usin'  your  capital?" 

"Not  as  yet,  Barnaby.  If  Barnabetta  and  I  de 
cide  to  go  Across,"  she  waved  her  hand,  "it  may  be 
necessary." 

"You  mean  to  up  and  tell  me  you  'd  draw  on  your 
capital  fur  just  such  a  pleasure-trip?" 

"There  's  no  telling  what  a  woman  may  do  if 
goaded.  By  the  way,  Husband,  don't  waste  any  more 
stamps  in  childishly  writing  instructions  to  my  lawyer 
which  he  could  not  legally  carry  out,  inasmuch  as 
you  have  no  authority  to  direct  him  as  to  the  dispo 
sition  of  money  not  your  own.  That  was  a  most  silly 
letter  you  wrote  him,  dear.  I  was  quite  ashamed  of 
it.  It  reflected  on  your  intelligence!" 

Barnaby  stared — choked  and  speechless  with  emo 
tion. 

"Of  course  the  lawyer  paid  no  attention  to  your 
futile  directions,  love." 

"Paid  no  attention!  Fur  why  didn't  he  pay  no 
attention?  Ain't  I  your  man,  heh?" 

"But  he  is  in  my  employ  and  can  do  nothing  with 
my  money  without  my  sanction.  I  deposited  in  the 
bank  that  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  on  which 
you  foolishly  wasted  a  two-cent  stamp  in  returning  it 

105 


Barnabetta 

to  my  lawyer.  Or,  rather,  I  deposited  three  hundred 
and  kept  fifty  by  me." 

The  three  men  gazed  at  her  in  silence.  For  a  mar 
ried  woman  to  thus  flaunt  in  the  face  of  her  husband 
the  fact  that  she  was  sportively  handling  huge  sums 
like  this  without  a  By-Your-Leave — it  passed  be 
lief. 

"I  ain't  got  no  authority,  ain't  I?"  Barnaby  de 
manded  when  he  could  get  his  breath.  ' '  Did  n  't  you 
promise  to  obey  to  me?" 

' '  The  quaint  phraseology  of  the  marriage  ceremony, 
Husband,  is  merely  figurative.  Don't  be  ignorant!" 

"When  we  stood  up  before  the  preacher,"  Bar 
naby  stubbornly  reiterated,  "to  say  'Yes'  to  each 
other,  you  passed  your  promise  to  obey  to  me!" 

"A  silly  promise,  Barnaby,  is  better  broken  than 
kept — as  Shakespeare  might  well  have  said  if  he  had 
thought  of  it." 

"Well,"  broke  in  Jacob  threateningly,  "if  I  ain't 
to  have  what  I  ast  fur  at  my  meals,  I  'm  boardin'  at 
the  Tiotel." 

"An  heroic  resolution,  Jacob,  and  I  hope  you  '11 
adhere  to  it.  A  season  of  boarding  at  the  Eeinhartz 
Hotel  will  be  the  best  preparation  you  could  possibly 
make  for  becoming  an  appreciative  husband  to  the 
damsel  soon  to  assume  the  not  wholly  inappropriate 
name  of  Dreary.  Here  comes  Barnabetta." 

They  all  started  at  the  suddenness  of  the  announce 
ment,  and  Mr.  Dreary  promptly  rose.  But  the  un- 

106 


Mrs.  Dreary  Resorts  to  Heroic  Measures 

familiar  figure  confronting  him  in  the  doorway  close 
by,  checked  him ;  this  stylish  young  lady  in  dark  blue 
skirt  and  jacket  and  jaunty  blue  hat  trimmed  with  a 
red  wing,  this  his  girl? 

''Why  did  you  come  home  so  early,  Barnabetta, 
dear?"  Mrs.  Dreary  quickly  asked.  "I  was  not  ex 
pecting  you  yet. ' ' 

"I  was  not  willing,  Mama,"  Barnabetta  quietly 
answered,  "to  leave  you  take  all  the  blame  alone." 

' '  Dear  heart !  But  there  's  nothing  to  take,  daugh 
ter,  as  I — " 

But  Barnabetta 's  familiar  voice  had  broken  the 
spell  which  for  a  moment  had  held  her  father,  and 
the  pent-up  indignation  of  days  broke  forth  as,  glar 
ing  at  her  new  clothing,  he  suddenly  strode  to  her  side 
and  seized  her  shoulder. 

"I  '11  learn  her  if  there  's  nothin'  to  take  or  if 
there  ain't!  She  's  under  nobody's  authority  but 
mine  till  she  's  of  age  a 'ready  and  I  '11  show  her 
oncet  if  she  kin  do  as  she  pleases  under  my  rooft 
or—" 

As  he  spoke  he  jerked  her  forward  into  the  room, 
but  instantly  Mrs.  Dreary,  on  the  alert,  flung  herself 
upon  his  breast.  "Oh!"  she  exclaimed  with  an  hys 
terical  laugh,  appealing  to  the  boys  and  Barnabetta, 
"isn't  he  cute?  Now,  then,  Barnaby,"  she  persisted, 
clinging  upon  him  with  a  vise-like  hold  as  he  furiously 
tried  to  fling  her  off,  "I  have  a  revelation  which  I 
must  make  to  you — about  myself!" 

107 


Barnabetta 

Her  tone  was  so  impressively  solemn  that  even  in 
his  rage  Mr.  Dreary  was  arrested. 

' '  The  crucial  moment  has  come,  Barnaby,  for  me  to 
speak!" 

She  paused  dramatically. 

"I  must  reveal  a  certain  fact  about  myself  which, 
if  you  had  been  aware  of  before  our  marriage,  might 
have  'given  you  pause,'  as  the  poet  says.  Husband, 
I  am  not  what  I  seem !  Unsuspected  by  yourself,  you 
led  to  Hymen's  altar — what?  'Only  this  and  noth 
ing  more' — a  woman  of  staunch  resolution." 

She  paused  to  let  it  take  effect;  but  her  listeners 
were  stunned  to  silence. 

"You  are  married,  Barnaby,  to  a  woman  of  resolu 
tion!  If  you  doubt  it,  just  note  that  I  wished  to 
marry  you  and  I  did  marry  you;  I  wished  to  have 
a  child  to  cherish  and,"  laying  her  hand  on  Barna 
betta 's,  "I  secured  one.  And  now  note  also,  please, 
I  wish  to  live  with  a  certain  regard  for  my  own  com 
fort  and  pleasure — and  I  shall  do  it;  I  wish  to  save 
our  dear  girl  here  from  a  life  that  would  kill  all 
youthful  happiness  in  its  bud — and  'neither  the  angels 
in  the  heavens  above  nor  the  demons  down  under  the 
sea  can  ever  dissever'  this  resolution  from  my  soul. 
So,  Barnaby,  make  your  choice — fall  into  step,  or  I  go 
back  to  my  home  and  take  Barnabetta  with  me  and 
you  will  be  troubled  with  us  no  more.  It  was  not, 
after  all,  your  irresistible  charms  which  led  me  to 
marry  you,  you  will  remember.  In  taking  Barna- 

108 


Mrs.  Dreary  Resorts  to  Heroic  Measures 

betta  with  me,  I  take  the  best  that  my  marriage  with 
you  could  possibly  give  me.  Therefore,  make  your 
choice.  If  you  decide  to  dispense  with  us,  can  you 
doubt  that  that  decision  will  be  by  far  the  happier 
for  us?" 

"Barnabetta  ain't  of  age!  She  can't  leave  home 
without  I  give  her  the  dare!" 

"She  can  elope  with  Abel  Buchter  if  you  won't 
let  her  come  with  me — so  in  any  case  you  would  have 
no  housekeeper.  Come,  Barnabetta,  we  will  leave  him 
now  to  weigh  and  ponder  my  proposition;  and  to 
night,  ere  we  retire,  he  can  acquaint  me  with  his  de 
cision.  ' ' 

Mr.  Dreary  and  the  boys,  still  stunned  by  her  his 
trionic  eloquence,  stood  motionless,  as  with  high, 
dramatic  mien,  she  drew  Barnabetta  after  her  from 
the  room. 


109 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ABEL  BUCHTEB,  EDUCATOR 

IN  the  weeks  that  followed,  the  now  nominal  head 
of  the  Dreary  household  and  his  sons  underwent 
a  process  of  psychic  evolution  as  radical  as  it  was 
remarkable. 

Mrs.  Dreary's  persistence  in  her  resolution  to  live 
with  a  certain  regard  for  her  own  comfort  and 
pleasure  continued  to  be  met  for  a  time  with  sullen- 
ness  and  grumbling,  but  was  soon  recognized  as  the 
unescapable  order  of  things  in  the  household,  and  so, 
gradually,  came  to  be  accepted  as  such.  It  came  to 
pass,  therefore,  that  services  which  they  could  no 
longer  obtain  for  nothing,  they  grew  to  appreciate  at 
their  true  value;  what  they  could  not  hold  cheap, 
they  learned  to  respect.  Slowly  they  came  to  look 
upon  their  stepmother  and  their  sister  with  a  regard 
never  before  given  to  one  of  the  sex  which  they  had 
been  wont  to  consider  dependent,  for  they  were  even 
progressing  so  far  as  to  recognize  not  only  the  inev- 
itableness,  but,  in  a  measure,  the  justice  and  right  of 
the  new  order. 

When  the  virtual  head  of  the  family  had  got  them 
thus  far,  she  decided  that  the  time  was  now  ripe  for 

110 


Abel  Buchter,  Educator 

announcing  her  ambitious  plan  of  sending  Barna- 
betta  away  to  school. 

It  seemed  of  course  to  the  Dreary  men  a  madness 
of  folly  and  extravagance.  But  Mr.  Dreary,  knowing 
his  helplessness  before  the  "staunch  resolution"  of 
a  wife  possessed  of  an  independent  income,  no  longer 
opposed  very  strenuously  anything  she  proposed  to 
do,  no  matter  how  wild  it  appeared  to  him,  though 
the  extreme  to  which  she  planned  to  go  in  this  case — 
spending  money  to  send  a  grown-up  girl  to  school 
— did  cast  him  down  for  days  into  a  state  of  sullen 
gloom  from  which  all  Juliet's  vivacity  failed  to 
arouse  him. 

"Barnabetta,  dear,  I  want  you  to  go  'round  to 
Mr.  Buchter 's  school  this  afternoon,"  Mrs.  Dreary 
instructed  the  girl  one  day  when,  the  noon  dishes 
having  been  washed,  they  were  both  at  leisure  for  a 
few  hours,  "and  get  from  him  the  addresses  of  the 
college-preparatories  with  which  he  promised  to  fur 
nish  us.  I  meant  to  go  myself,  but  I  am  in  such 
painful  suspense  over  the  novel  I  'm  reading  that 
I  '11  let  you  go,  though  I  am  aware  I  expose  you,  or 
rather  Mr.  Buchter,  to  temptation  in  thus  bringing 
you  together." 

"I  feel  sorry  for  Abel,  Mama,  that  he  takes  to  me 
so  much." 

"My  dear,  don't  waste  one  thought  over  a  mere 
man 's  repining  for  you !  Their  affections  are  ephem 
eral  to  a  degree!" 

Ill 


Barnabetta 

Barnabetta  started  out  on  her  walk  to  the  school 
with  mingled  feelings  of  happiness  and  sadness. 

A  hugely-lettered  placard  in  front  of  the  Evan 
gelical  Church  which  she  passed  gave  direction  to  her 
reflections  as  she  went  on  her  way. 

"STOP!     THINK!     COME! 

"TWO  SERIOUS  QUESTIONS:— 

"ARE  YOU  MAKING  THE  BEST  USE  OF  YOUR 

TIME  NOW? 
"WHERE  WILL  YOU  SPEND  ETERNITY?" 

It  was  not,  however,  the  theological  purport  of  these 
"serious  questions"  that  troubled  Barnabetta.  The 
truth  was  that  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  did  not 
want  to  go  away  to  school,  so  happy  was  she  now  at 
home  and  so  appalled  at  the  bare  idea  of  days  spent 
apart  from  her  idolized  mother.  But  she  was  ashamed 
to  let  her  benefactor  know  that  she  was  so  unambi 
tious  as  to  prefer  ignorance  to  the  loss  of  their  daily 
companionship,  little  dreaming  of  the  heartache  with 
which  the  starved  mother-instinct  of  the  odd  little 
woman  was  also  contemplating  their  separation. 
That  penetrating  question,  however,  "ARE  YOU 
MAKING  THE  BEST  USE  OF  YOUR  TIME 
NOW?"  roused  in  Barnabetta  a  realization  that 
merely  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  affection,  reading 
poetry  and  novels  and  studying  music,  were  not  all 
that  she  was  coming  to  feel  herself  capable  of  in  the 

112 


Abel  Buchter,  Educator 

new  awakening  of  her  mind  and  heart,  and  for  the 
first  time  an  ambition  for  herself  alone,  apart  from 
the  desire  to  gratify  her  mother,  stirred  her  to  the 
quick,  brought  a  flush  to  her  cheeks,  a  light  to  her 
dreamy  eyes,  a  spring  to  her  step  that,  as  she  pres 
ently  entered  the  school-room,  set  poor  Abel's  heart 
to  bounding  and  his  knees  to  quaking  under  him. 

It  was  only  a  half  hour  before  closing  time  and 
Barnabetta,  seated  in  the  visitor's  chair  on  the  plat 
form,  listened  to  the  "exercises"  while  she  waited 
until  Abel  should  be  free  to  talk  with  her. 

With  a  mighty  effort  Abel  got  himself  in  hand, 
and  his  pupils  looked  on  in  amazement  at  the  ani 
mated  and  superior  style  of  pedagogy  by  which 
they  all  at  once  found  themselves  being  instructed. 

''Now  while  the  C  class  makes  ready  to  begin  to 
write  penmanship,  the  A  class  will  come  up  with  their 
readers,"  he  announced  with  a  Commander-in-Chief 
air  that  was  wholly  unusual  and  entirely  affected. 
"This  class,"  he  explained  to  the  visitor,  "is  reading 
in  the  Fourth  Reader,  but  will  come  soon  in  the 
Fifth.  Mamie  Hoffstitler,  I  let  you  choose  to-day  a 
piece  to  read." 

Mamie,  being  of  a  sentimental  turn,  chose  poetry. 
But  her  "rendering"  of  the  lines  indicated  such  a 
mental  blankness  as  to  their  purport  that  the  teacher, 
feeling  the  necessity  of  a  few  frills  in  honor  of  the 
visitor,  introduced  the  innovation  of  demanding  from 
the  pupil  an  explanation  of  what  she  read. 

113 


Barnabetta 

She  there  shall  dress  a  sweeter  sod 
Than  Fancy's  feet  have  ever  trod, 

Abel  repeated  the  last  two  lines.  "How  many  feet 
has  Fancy?"  he  shrewdly  inquired. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mamie. 

"What  is  Fancy?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Didn't  you  ever  hear  any  one  say,  'I  fancy  that 
automobile'?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  that's  what  Fancy  means." 

A  roguish  little  girl  seated  on  the  platform  whither 
she  had  been  banished  to  keep  her  out  of  mischief, 
leaned  towards  Barnabetta  and  whispered,  "He  don't 
always  talk  like  that  there — he  's  just  putting  on  airs 
before  you!" 

Barnabetta  blushed  and  hastily  looked  away,  to 
read  the  mottoes  on  the  walls — the  same  which  had 
hung  there  six  years  ago  when  she  herself  had  been 
a  pupil  in  this  school: — 

"LOST  TIME  IS  NEVER  FOUND  AGAIN," 
"SPEAK   THE    TRUTH.     NO   LIE   THRIVES," 

and  other  exalted  sentiments  calculated  to  develop  a 
high  order  of  citizenship — if  they  did  not  drive  to 
villainy. 

When  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  and  Abel 
strolled  together  towards  her  home  through  the  crisp 

114 


Abel  Buchter,  Educator 

November  air,  Abel  sadly  admitted  to  her  that  her 
going  away  "to  get  educated"  was  a  trial  under 
which  he  found  it  hard  to  bear  up.  ''Though  I  'm 
trying  to  wish  it  to  you  that  you  do  get  educated, 
Barnabetta,"  he  wistfully  told  her.  "I  put  my  own 
feelings  to  aside  and  wrote  a  long  letter  about  you  to 
the  President  of  Stevens  College  over  in  Middleton, 
you  know." 

"You  are  always  kind,  Abel.  Stevens  College! 
Do  you  think  I  know  enough  to  even  get  in  at  Stevens 
College?" 

"I  had  their  catalogue  and  it  says  there  'a  a  Pre 
paratory  School  right  in  the  college,  so  you  can  any 
ways  get  in  that  with  the  reading  and  studying  you  've 
been  doing  in  your  spare  time  the  past  couple  of 
months.  As  soon  as  the  President  answers  I  '11  leave 
you  know.  Here  's  the  catalogue,"  he  added,  pro 
ducing  the  pamphlet  from  his  breast-pocket  and  hand 
ing  it  to  her.  "It  's  the  best  school,  Barnabetta,  all 
considered,  I  could  find  for  you — as  to  price,  distance 
from  here,  and  entrance  conditions.  It  's  near  enough 
for  your  stepmother  (or  me)  to  run  over  of  a  Sunday 
to  see  you  once." 

"Yes,  if  they  '11  leave  me  have  a  gentleman  come, 
Abel?  Do  you  think?" 

"If  it  's  explained  I  am  your  former  teacher,  I 
guess  it  won't  make  much  to  the  President,  he  being 
a  young  man  himself  and  knowing  how  it  is  with 
young  men  when  their  heart  gets  set  on  a  certain 

115 


Barnabetta 

girl.     I  only  hope  he  won't  go  making  up  to  you, 
Barnabetta!" 

"I  would  think,','  speculated  Barnabetta,  "a  young- 
man  would  not  know  enough  to  be  the  president  of 
a  college!  I  can  only  now  see,"  she  added  with  a 
sigh,  ' '  how  it  goes  a  long  time  with  much  hard  study, 
before  it  gives  an  educated  person. ' ' 

"If  only  this  getting  educated  don't  make  you 
proud  that  way,  Barnabetta — like  your  stepmother ! ' ' 
pleaded  Abel. 

"Why,  Mama  ain't— isn't— proud,  Abel!" 

"She  talks  proud.  She  's  a  way-up  conversation 
alist." 

"But  if  she  was  proud,"  said  Barnabetta  simply, 
"I  think  she  wouldn't  have  married  father." 

"Yes,  that  's  mebby  so  too,  again,"  conceded  Abel 
spiritlessly.  "You  think  it  won't  get  you  high- 
minded,  going  to  such  a  tony  pay-school?" 

"I  never  was  proud  yet,  Abel,  so  I  don't  know 
right  how  it  feels — but  I  know  I  couldn't  ever  feel 
anything  but  very  friendly  and  common  to  you, 
Abel." 

"Even  if  you  study  French  language?  Mrs. 
Dreary  she  said  you  were  to  'take  up  French'  yet! 
But  I  say  German  is  much  more  use  to  a  body.  And 
there  ain't  a  prettier  language,  either,  than  German 
when  it  's  spoke  correct.  There  ain't  really  but  three 
languages — American,  German  and  French." 

116 


Abel  Buchter,  Educator 

"Why,  ain't — is  n't — there  Italian  and  Latin,  Abel, 
and  Spanish,  maybe?" 

"Oh,  well,"  he  granted,  "they  're  coming  on." 

Mrs.  Dreary,  when  informed  that  Abel  had  already 
addressed  the  President  of  Stevens  College  in  "a 
long  letter"  concerning  Barnabetta,  was  displeased. 

"Officious!"  she  pronounced.  "He  should  have 
left  that  to  me.  I  have  received  many  compliments 
upon  my  gifts  for  epistolary  correspondence.  Well, 
dear,  I  shall  at  once  compose  a  very  beautiful  letter 
to  the  President  of  Stevens  College  and  counteract 
any  impression  of  illiteracy  Abel's  crude  communica 
tion  may  have  created." 

She  went  immediately  to  her  writing-desk  which 
stood  between  two  windows  of  the  dining-room,  and 
bent  her  closest  attention  and  highest  ability  to  the 
composing  of  her  beautiful  letter. 


117 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  PRESIDENT  OF  STEVENS  RECEIVES  THE  TWO  LETTERS 

EDGAR  BARRETT,  the  recently-elected  young 
President  of  Stevens  College,  an  institution  of 
second  rank  whose  diploma  admitted  to  the  senior 
class  of  first-rank  colleges,  sat  one  morning  at  his 
office  desk  in  the  main  college  building,  reading,  with 
mingled  astonishment,  perplexity  and  amusement, 
two  very  extraordinary  letters  which  he  had  just 
had  in  his  mail. 

Stevens  College  for  Women  was  an  old  and  digni 
fied  institution  in  southeastern  Pennsylvania.  The 
extensive  campus  with  its  dozen  or  more  buildings 
was  just  on  the  outskirts  of  the  small,  conservative, 
and  reputedly  aristocratic  town  of  Middleton,  the 
social  life  of  the  place  centering  about  a  few  very  old 
and  influential  families  and  the  college  faculty. 

The  recent  election  of  a  President  had  been  a  matter 
of  considerable  import,  inasmuch  as  the  retiring  Pres 
ident,  though  scholarly,  had  been,  together  with  his 
wife,  so  impossible  socially  as  to  have  made  the  trus 
tees  ready  to  swing  to  an  extreme  in  insisting  that  his 
successor  must  be,  first  and  foremost,  ' '  a  gentleman ' ' ; 
and  they  considered  themselves  especially  fortunate 

118 


The  President  Receives  Two  Letters 

in  having  secured  a  man  who  combined  this  essential 
(Dr.  Barrett  being  a  descendant  of  the  distinguished 
Barrett  family  of  Boston,  than  which  our  nation 
could  boast  no  better  blood)  with  the  high  qualifica 
tion  of  three  years'  study  at  Oxford,  England.  To 
be  sure  they  had  to  pay  dear  for  such  a  precious 
commodity,  with  its  cultured  English  accent,  for  nat 
urally  it  was  in  demand.  But  determined  to  secure 
it  at  any  price,  they  had  offered  a  salary  almost  double 
what  they  had  hitherto  paid,  adding  a  renovated  and 
newly-furnished  President's  Eesidence  (which  was 
a  large  and  rather  pretentious  house  on  the  campus), 
with  the  use  of  an  automobile  and  a  chauffeur. 

The  one  slight  objection  to  Dr.  Barrett  had  been 
the  fact  that  he  was  unmarried  and,  as  he  admitted, 
not  even  engaged;  there  was  of  course  the  possibility 
that  the  students  and  even  possibly  some  feminine 
members  of  the  Faculty,  might  be  diverted  from  their 
duties  by  so  dazzling  a  bait. 

The  matter  of  a  hostess  at  the  President 's  Residence 
was  provided  for  by  Dr.  Barrett's  widowed  elder 
sister's  consenting  to  preside  over  his  household  and 
do  the  requisite  honors. 

The  widow's  daughter,  seventeen  years  old,  would, 
it  was  assumed,  attend  Stevens.  This  gratuitous  as 
sumption,  however,  proved  to  be  very  wide  of  the 
mark,  for  only  a  week  after  the  new  President's  in 
auguration,  he  was  reported  to  have  replied  to  some 
one  who  referred  to  the  assumption, ' '  My  niece  attend 

119 


Barnabetta 

Stevens?  But  my  niece  is  a  lady!  She  goes,  of 
course,  to  Bryn  Mawr." 

This  remark,  repeated  far  and  wide,  and  calcu 
lated  to  damn  the  young  man,  at  the  very  opening  of 
his  career,  in  the  estimation  of  every  lover  of  Mid- 
dleton  and  of  the  highly  respectable  old  college  which 
was  its  pride,  was  later  said  to  have  been  made,  not 
by  Dr.  Barrett,  but  by  his  excessively  unapproachable 
sister.  However,  though  this  fact  modified  somewhat 
the  surging  tide  of  resentment  against  him,  a  closer 
acquaintance  with  him  made  it  clear  that  even  if  he 
had  not  said  that  outrageous  thing,  he  was  quite 
capable  of  doing  so;  and  that,  in  spite  of  his  ability 
and  his  earnest  devotion  to  the  interests  of  Stevens, 
and  in  spite  of  his  sister's  scrupulous  observance  of 
every  courtesy  expected  of  her,  the  attitude  of  both 
of  them  towards  Middleton  society  was  condescend 
ing. 

Now  Stevens  College  and  Middleton  had  demanded, 
as  was  their  right,  the  best.  But  that  "the  best" 
would  feel  that  it  stooped  in  fraternizing  with  Mid 
dleton  had  not  been  conceivable.  The  complacent 
little  town — with  its  college  patronage  of  a  well-to-do, 
upper-middle  class  coming  from  all  over  the  country 
— wholly  unused  to  being  regarded  condescendingly, 
scarcely  knew  how  to  meet  it- — whether  to  resent  it  or 
to  feel  honored  at  having  a  president  so  superior  as 
to  feel  patronizing  to  such  as  it. 

At  the  time  that  we  find  Presi'dent  Barrett  in  his 
120 


The  President  Receives  Two  Letters 

office  reading  the  two  extraordinary  letters  in  his 
morning  mail,  he  had  been  in  Middleton  just  three 
months  and  it  was  nearing  the  end  of  the  first  semes 
ter,  just  before  the  Christmas  Holidays. 

The  appearance  of  the  young  man  quite  bore  out 
the  traditions  back  of  him.  His  features  were  both 
fine  and  strong  and  his  countenance  intelligent.  He 
was  of  a  good  height  and  though  his  shoulders  were 
broad,  he  had  the  leanness  apt  to  go  with  the  nervous 
temperament  of  the  scholar  and  of  the  man  of  ex 
tremely  cultivated  tastes.  A  barely  perceptible 
superciliousness  marked  his  mouth  and  his  rather 
cold,  though  thoughtful,  gray  eyes. 

' '  Our  new  President  is  suue  some  class ! ' '  a  Western 
girl  wrote  home  to  her  ''folks,"  expressing  very  ade 
quately,  if  vulgarly,  the  general  sentiment  of  the 
college  and  of  the  town. 

The  older  and  better  students  found  him  an  amaz 
ingly  inspiring  teacher;  for  Dr.  Barrett  was  not 
only  able  and  highly  educated;  he  was  a  young 
man  of  much  earnestness  and  of  serious  and  high 
ideals. 

The  first  of  the  two  queer  letters  bore  the  post 
mark  of  Reinhartz  and  was  written  in  the  copy-book 
hand  of  a  country  schoolmaster. 

"REINHARTZ,  BERKS  Co  PA.  Dec.  15,  19 — 
Esteemed  Prof  I  will  seat  Myself  to  drop  you  a 
few  lines.  Desirous  of  placing  my  friend  and  pupil 

121 


Barnabetta 

under  the  care  of  a  worthy  Tutor,  I  write  off  this 
letter  to  ask  you  if  you  will  have  a  vacancy  yet.  I 
am  the  district  Teacher  Mr  Buchter.  first  name  Abel 
Buchter,  Abel  after  the  grandfather  he  being  still 
living.  I  hope  you  won't  mind  me  writing  this  way, 
you  being  a  friend  to  Education  yourself.  She  's  very 
smart  at  her  books,  but  her  father  was  never  a  friend 
to  Education,  he  claims  Education  tends  to  make 
Rogues.  He  says  look  at  all  those  educated  Grafters 
at  Harrisburg  yet.  I  never  was  to  college  but  I  saw 
one  once  that  one  at  Lancaster,  Pa.  I  am  helping 
her  to  get  to  go  to  college  because  I  know  she  's  worthy 
excepting  in  Geography  which  she  don't  understand 
very  thorough  but  I  tell  her  it  's  an  important  Branch. 
Is  studied  in  almost  all  parts  of  the  earth  and  has 
been  studied  since  the  beginning  of  the  World.  Will 
you  leave  us  know  what  Barnabetta  will  have  to  pay 
by  the  year  her  father  has  a  little  laid  by  and  if  it 
don't  come  too  high  she  will  come  right  on  then.  I 
will  tell  you  for  a  reference  that  I  know  Congressman 
Bowman  right  well  my  uncle  used  to  sell  them  all 
the  milk  they  use  and  I  neither  smoke  nor  drink  so 
as  you  can  see  I  am  of  a  good  moral  character  I  can 
prove  it  by  Congressman  Bowman.  When  you  are 
writing  ajbout  Barnabetta  coming  to  your  school  then 
would  you  mind  writing  me  a  piece  off  for  the  De- 
baiting  Society  over  at  Denver,  Pa.  the  question  is 
which  deserves  the  most  honor  Washington  for  De- 

122 


The  President  Receives  Two  Letters 

fending  His  Country  or  Columbus  for  discovering 
America,  I  am  on  Columbus  side  and  I  wish  you 
would  write  me  off  a  Piece  for  Columbus  if  it  ain't 
too  much,  bother  they  are  going  to  speak  on  that  sub 
ject  next  Saturday  night  if  you  please  write  me  off 
a  Piece,  Your 

"Kind  friend 

"ABEL  BUCHTER. 
"P.S.     I  cad  write  much  better  than  this." 

Now  was  this  piece  of  writing  a  practical  joke 
played  on  him  by  one  of  the  students,  President  Bar 
rett  wondered,  or  had  it  actually  been  written  in  good 
faith  by  one,  Abel  Buchter,  schoolmaster  and  friend 
to  "Congressman  Bowman"? 

The  second  letter,  also  bearing  the  post-mark, 
"Reinhartz,"  was  scarcely  more  convincing  as  to 
its  genuineness. 

"REINHARTZ,  Dec.  the  15,  19 — 
"President  of  Stevens  College, 

"My  Friend, — 

"After 

quite  a  struggle  against  adverse  circumstances,  we 
see  at  length  a  ray  of  hope  above  the  horizon  of  de 
spair.  I  think  we  have  now  so  far  Surmounted  diffi 
culties  as  to  be  able  to  commit  to  your  care  our  dear 
daughter  at  the  reopening  of  your  halls  of  learning 

123 


Barnabetta 

after  Christinas.  She  is  seventeen,  but  unfavoring 
circumstances  have  retarded  her  education  and  she 
will  have  to  enter  the  Preparatory  Class. 

"Aided  by  memory,  that  magic  wand  of  mind,  my 
thoughts  review  the  long  period  that  has  elapsed  since 
I  myself  was  sweet  sixteen  and  attending  school. 
Since  then,  Time,  the  scene-shifter,  has  wrought 
changes  and  vicissitudes. 

''Well,  winter  has  come  again.  I  suppose  chilly 
breezes,  too,  have  sighed  around  your  more  sunny 
home  in  beautiful  Middleton.  Rude  blasts  are  scat 
tering  dead  leaves,  and  faded,  calling  up  within  the 
heart  sad  and  painful  emotions,  reminding  us  of  the 
irrevocable  sentence  written  upon  all  things— of 
the  Winter  of  Life.  But  dismissing  this  sad  com 
parison  from  our  minds,  what  a  beautiful  panorama 
of  scenery  our  Nature  presents!  It  seems  that  an 
artist  from  the  studios  of  heaven  were  giving  it  an 
additional  tint  every  day. 

"But,  President  B.,  I  beg  pardon  if  I  have  wearied 
you,  for  I  have  ideas  of  every  hue  intermixed,  for 
while  some  have  brilliant  thinking  powers  I  must 
remain  in  the  background ;  and  again  have  a  beautiful 
way  of  expressing  themselves  and  I  have  often  sighed 
for  the  talent  in  that  way  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  Myrtle 
Eeed,  or  some  other  brilliant  Star  whose  name  fame 
delights  to  immortalize  who  long  after  they  sink  to 
eternal  repose  their  soaring  intellect  will  be  perused 
with  eye  and  heart  entranced. 

124 


The  President  Receives  Two  Letters 

"  Again  I  beg  pardon,  I  do  not  know  what  you  will 
think  of  me  for  writing  this  long  letter,  but  out  of 
your  generous  nature  ransack  for  the  pardon  I  crave. 
"My  love  to  the  Lady  Barrett  Yours  With 
' '  Reverence 

"MRS.  JULIET  DREARY 

"nee  Miller. 
"Pardon  rude  chirography. " 

President  Barrett  touched  an  electric  button  on  his 
desk  and  his  secretary,  a  middle-aged  woman,  an 
swered  it,  coming  in  from  an  outer  office. 

"Read  and  enjoy  these,"  he  said  with  a  short  laugh, 
handing  her  the  two  letters,  "and  answer  them, 
please.  I  shall  be  curious,"  he  added  with  an  un 
wonted  absence  of  formality  in  addressing  his  secre 
tary,  "to  see  the  young  lady  who  will  follow  them!" 


125 


CHAPTER  XV 

BARNABETTA    AND    THE    PRESIDENT    OF    STEVENS 

CALLED  upon  to  part  with  his  daughter  for  the 
first  time  in  her  young  life,  Mr.  Dreary  dis 
covered,  to  his  own  vague,  dumb  surprise,  that  the 
experience  was  a  depressing,  even  a  painful  one. 
Her  existence  had  meant  little  to  him  but  comfortable 
meals  and  a  frugally-managed  home.  But  habit  is 
sometimes  almost  indistinguishable  from  affection, 
and  so  moved  was  he  by  the  impending  separation 
that  when  the  morning  for  her  departure  came,  he 
went  himself  with  her  and  his  wife  to  the  little  sta 
tion  to  see  them  off  (for  Mrs.  Dreary  was  to  accom 
pany  Barnabetta  to  Middleton  and  return  the  same 
evening)  and  he  even  opened  up  his  heart  so  far  as 
to  pay  for  their  railroad  tickets. 

"I  want  two  tickets  fur  South  Middleton,"  he 
remarked  expansively  to  the  ticket-agent.  "One  fur 
my  wife  to  go  and  come  back  again,  and  one  fur  my 
daughter  to  go  and  not  come  back.  See?" 

"I  see.  One  dollar  and  thirty  cents,"  answered 
the  clerk,  punching  and  handing  out  the  tickets. 

"How  do  you  make  it  one-thirty  yet?  This  here 
program,"  Dreary  aggressively  argued,  holding  up 

126 


Barnabetta  and  the  President 

a  time-table,  "calls  fur  two  cents  a  mile  and  it 's 
twenty  mile.  That  would  come  to  twenty  times  two 
is  forty  and  two  times  forty  is  eighty.  Eighty  cents. ' ' 

"Unless  you  get  a  return  it  's  two  and  a  half  cents 
a  mile,"  retorted  the  clerk.  "One-thirty." 

Barnabetta  realized,  when  without  a  murmur  her 
father  handed  over  fifty  cents  more,  that  her  going 
away  really  meant  something  to  him;  but  the  real 
ization  moved  her  to  nothing  more  than  a  faint  sur 
prise,  so  heavy  was  her  heart  with  the  sorrow  of  her 
coming  separation  from  her  stepmother. 

Indeed,  when  at  the  end  of  that  day,  the  elder 
woman,  alone  with  the  girl  in  the  school  dormitory, 
took  her  in  her  arms  to  bid  her  good-by,  Barnabetta 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  gave  herself  up  to  an 
abandonment  of  feeling,  clinging  to  her  mother,  sob 
bing,  caressing  her  unrestrainedly. 

To  Juliet,  this  spontaneous  outbreak  of  genuine 
grief  and  love  opened  up  a  heaven  of  maternal  hap 
piness.  That  the  child  should  care  for  her  so  much, 
should  suffer  at  parting  from  her,  should  cling  to 
her — it  fed  the  yearnings  of  all  the  years  of  her 
womanhood. 

With  soothing,  petting,  promises  of  frequent  letters, 
and  even  of  occasional  visits,  she  at  last  tearfully,  yet 
with  a  deep  inner  joy,  tore  herself  away  and  turned 
her  face  courageously  to  the  loneliness  of  the  Dreary 
household  without  Barnabetta;  consoling  herself  on 
her  homeward  ride  with  the  reflection  that  undoubt- 

127 


Barnabetta 

edly  she  had  launched  her  dear  child  upon  a  career 
far  more  in  accord  with  her  tender,  sensitive  nature 
than  would  have  been  her  fate  had  she  been  left  to 
marry  Abel  Buchter  and  spend  her  years  in  rearing 
innumerable  children  on  a  country  schoolmaster's 
small  monthly  salary. 

Barnabetta,  accustomed  through  all  her  girlhood  to 
an  unexpressed  inner  life  of  complete  solitude,  a  life 
of  her  soul  entirely  independent  of  outward  condi 
tions  and  relations,  did  not  feel  the  strangeness  of 
her  new  surroundings  like. one  to  whom  the  external 
change  would  have  meant  much.  In  so  young  a  girl 
this  was  of  course  not  normal ;  but  an  intense  nature, 
feeding  for  years  upon  itself,  does  not  develop  along 
the  usual  lines.  Barnabetta  was  unique. 

In  so  far  as  her  altered  circumstances  affected  her 
at  all,  they  called  forth  her  astonishment.  For  in 
stance,  not  to  find  the  President  of  the  college  at  the 
station  to  meet  her,  since  he  had  been  duly  apprised 
by  letter  of  the  day  and  hour  of  her  arrival,  had 
been  a  surprise  to  her.  As  her  mother,  however,  did 
not  comment  upon  it,  she  decided  it  could  not  be  so 
serious  a  breach  on  his  part  as  to  her  it  seemed.  But 
when,  on  their  arrival  at  the  college  he  did  not  open 
the  door  to  them,  and  when  the  entire  first  day  passed 
by  without  her  mother  or  herself  catching  a  glimpse 
of  him,  she  realized  that  her  ideas  of  the  duties  of 
&  college  president  needed  reconstructing. 

The  Preparatory  School  of  Stevens  College  was  not 
128 


Barnabetta  and  the  President 

separate  from  the  college  proper,  the  only  distinction 
being  that  the  ' '  Preps ' '  were  under  stricter  discipline 
and  had  far  less  freedom  than  the  college  students. 

Seven  new  pupils  besides  Barnabetta  had  come  in 
with  the  opening  of  the  second  semester  and  on  the 
day  after  their  arrival  they  had  to  undergo  a  written 
examination  given  by  the  heads  of  the  various  de 
partments.  The  examination  in  English  was  given 
by  President  Barrett. 

It  was  at  this  examination  that  Dr.  Barrett  for  the 
first  time  saw  the  girl  about  whom  he  had  received 
those  two  extraordinary  letters  just  before  the  Holi 
days.  Among  the  eight  young  ladies  seated  before 
him  in  the  class-room,  his  eye  had  at  once  been  caught 
by  the  very  unusual  face  at  the  end  of  the  line — the 
fineness  of  her  features,  the  almost  somber  earnestness 
of  her  rather  wonderful  eyes,  seeming  to  him  incon 
gruously  at  variance  with  her  countrified,  awkward 
garb,  the  red  roughness  of  her  hands  and  the  clumsi 
ness  of  her  shoes.  All  this  he  noticed  with  a  passing 
interest,  not  at  the  time  identifying  her  with  the 
letters. 

It  was  not,  indeed,  until  the  next  day  that  he  came 
thus  to  identify  her,  when,  just  a  half  hour  before 
the  students'  six-o'clock  dinner,  being  alone  in  his 
office  on  the  first  floor  of  the  main  college  building, 
there  was  a  knock  on  his  door  and  his  secretary  en 
tered  to  announce  some  one  to  see  him. 

"'One  of  the  new  Preparatory  students  wishes  to 
129 


Barnabetta 

speak  with  you,  Dr.  Barrett  ? ' '  she  said  questioningly, 
her  tone  indicating  a  slight  amusement  at  the  boldness 
of  a  "Prep"  to  come  asking  admission  at  this  holy- 
of -holies,  the  President's  Office!  The  secretary's 
tone  and  manner  betrayed  also  the  slightly  uncom 
fortable  awe  in  which  she  held  the  President;  for 
though  his  bearing  to  her  was  always  extremely  cour 
teous,  it  was  invariably  formal  and  aloof — his  native 
New  England  stiffness  combined  with  the  reserve  in 
stinctive  to  a  race  that  assumed  itself  to  be,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  far  more  rare  and  fine  than  the  common 
herd. 

"You  asked  her  errand  of  course?"  he  inquired. 

"She  won't  say.  She  insists  upon  speaking  to 
you!  She  seems  to  be  in  some  trouble.  It  is  Miss 
Dreary." 

"Dreary?  Ah — Isaacine?  Abrahametta?  By  all 
means  show  her  in,  please." 

The  secretary  departed  and  in  a  moment  returned 
with  Miss  Dreary. 

Dr.  Barrett  rose  as  the  girl  crossed  the  room  to 
his  desk,  but  he  did  not  see  (or  did  not  betray  that 
he  saw)  her  hand  outstretched  to  him,  as  he  placed 
a  chair  for  her  and,  motioning  her  to  be  seated,  re 
seated  himself  behind  his  desk. 

His  habitual  manner  and  the  cold,  direct  gaze  of  his 
gray  eyes  were  to  the  average  student  rather  discon 
certing.  Of  this  Dr.  Barrett  was  perfectly  aware. 
But  as  he  met  the  wide,  dark  eyes  of  this  girl  seated 

130 


Barnabetta  and  the  President 

before  him,  eyes  that  seemed  to  give  her  a  look  of 
detachment  from  the  world  about  her,  he  was  conscious 
that  though  she  was  manifestly  in  trouble,  she  was 
neither  discomfited  nor  overawed — a  circumstance 
so  unusual  in  his  experience  that  it  came  to  him  with 
something  like  a  pleasant  shock.  It  interested  him 
stirred  his  curiosity. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Miss  "Weary?" 

"Dreary.  Barnabetta  Dreary.  Barnaby  after 
Father  and  Etta  after  Mother,"  she  recited  gently, 
in  a  voice  the  quality  of  which  instantly  impressed 
him,  to  his  surprise,  as  being,  somehow,  ideally  wo 
manly;  a  cultivated  voice  that  did  not  go  with  her 
accent  or  her  clothing.  "I  'm  their  first  and  only 
daughter  and  named  after  both,"  she  explained. 

He  bowed  in  acknowledgment  of  the  information. 
"And  your  errand?" 

"I  want  to  make  a  statement  to  you,  Mr.  Barrett." 

"A  statement?" 

"Yes,  sir.  There  was  a  question  on  your  examina 
tion  paper  yesterday — 'Who  is  your  favorite  au 
thor?'  and  I — I  wrote — "  she  faltered  and  her  face 
flushed  with  mortification.  "I  hope  you  don't  think 
— I  did  not  know  when  I  put  his  name  down  that  he 
wrote  such  things!  I  had  not  read  but  only  Mac 
beth  and  I  liked  this  Macbeth  so  well,  I  never  read 
anything  I  liked  better,  and  that  's  why  I  wrote  down 
that  John  Shakespeare  was  my  favorite  author.  But 
I  didn't  know,"  her  color  deepening,  "that  he  wrote 

131 


Barnabetta 

such  things  as  I  seen — saw — in  that  big  book  in  the 
library  this  morning! — and  I  hope  you  won't  lay  it 
up  against  me!" 

"But  what  did  you  see  that  shocked  you,  child?" 

"They  weren't  nice  things!  I  wonder  at  him 
that  he  would  write  out  such  things !  I  would  n't  say 
them  over  to  you,"  she  affirmed,  shaking  her  head. 
"And  here  Mama  has  his  Complete  Works  in  the 
parlor  standing  yet!  I  wanted  to  tell  you  I  didn't 
know  or  I  would  n  't  have  wrote — written — he  was  my 
favorite.  I  'm  that  ashamed ! ' ' 

Her  blushing  distress  touched  him  with  something 
more  than  inward  laughter,  and  he  answered  her 
kindly,  explaining  to  her  how  the  decency  of  one  age 
was  the  indecency  of  another,  and  citing  a  few  pass 
ages  of  Scripture  in  illustration;  he  pointed  out  to 
her  the  mistake  she  made  in  "laying  it  up  against" 
Shakespeare  that  his  generation  permitted  a  freedom 
of  speech  and  a  play  of  fancy  upon  subjects  which  in 
our  own  age  are  "not  mentioned  in  polite. society," 
and  incidentally  he  tried  to  impress  upon  her  the 
prevailing  prejudice  in  favor  of  calling  the  poet 
William  rather  than  John. 

Thus  did  Barnabetta  enter  upon  her  acquisition  of 
"culture." 

She  listened  to  him  with  wide-eyed  interest  and 
seemed  much  relieved  to  find  he  was  not  indignant  at 
her  want  of  propriety  in  naming  the  shameless  Shake 
speare  as  her  prime  favorite. 

132 


Barnabetta  and  the  President 

"I  had  a  notion  there  for  a  while  to  write  down 
Dickens,"  she  said.  "But  I  was  afraid  you  would  n't 
think  just  so  well  of  me  if  I  wrote  Dickens  was  my 
favorite." 

1 '  Why  ?    And  do  you  like  Dickens  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  sir,  /  do,  but  Mama  don't,  though  she  says 
maybe  she  oughtn't  to  tell  it,  seeing  so  many  like 
his  books,  but  she  can't  like  them,  the  people  in  them 
use  such  coarse  words  still.  That 's  why  I  thought 
I  'd  better  not  say  he  was  my  favorite.  Mama  likes 
better  to  read  'The  Wide,  Wide  World'  than  Dickens' 
books;  she  says  it  's  got  such  a  nice  moral  to  it. 
What  /  like  best,"  added  Barnabetta,  "is  a  book 
that  's  instructive  to  the  mind. ' ' 

"Yes?  And  what,  for  example,  would  you  call 
that  sort  of  a  book  ? ' ' 

"Well,  there  's  Jibbon's  Rome — I  like  to  read  in 
that." 

Dr.  Barrett  agreed  with  her  that  Gibbon's  Rome 
was  "instructive  to  the  mind,"  but  privately  he  felt 
a  large  skepticism  as  to  her  appreciation  of  the  fact. 

"You  like  to  read  it?"  he  doubtfully  inquired. 

"Yes,  sir,  except  when  I  come  to  a  page  full  of 
words  I  don't  understand.  I  like  to  understand  all 
the  words  when  I  read  a  book,  don't  you?"  she  ap 
pealed. 

Again  he  agreed  that  "understanding  all  the 
words ' '  was  a  condition  conducive  to  one 's  enjoyment 
in  reading. 

133 


Barnabetta 

By  a  little  adroit  questioning  he  tried  to  discover 
what  she  actually  did  know  of  Gibbon's  great  his 
tory  and  to  his  astonishment,  the  information  she 
displayed  was  appalling. 

"I  do  now  like  to  read  a  book!"  she  remarked 
when  he  paused  in  his  catechism ;  she  was  leaning  back 
easily  in  her  chair,  regarding  him  placidly,  her  work- 
worn  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  a  sublime  assumption 
of  comrade-like  equality  in  her  unwavering  gaze  and 
in  her  simple,  unconstrained,  manner.  Why,  his  own 
niece  was  not  half  so  much  at  ease  with  him!  ''Be 
cause,"  she  went  on,  "it  's  so  interesting  to  see  how 
a  book  is  going  to  turn  out,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes?" 

"There  's  another  book,"  she  continued  sociably, 
"that  I  like  to  read  in — for  all,  it  's  a  terrible  book! 
It's  title  is  Quo  Vadis  and,  Mr.  Barrett,  you  just 
ought  to  see  how  they  persecuted  the  Christians  in 
those  days!  You  wouldn't  hardly  believe  it! 
Mama  even  said  she  'd  rather  not  have  been  a 
Christian  than  to  have  been  persecuted  like  that." 

"I  'm  afraid  I  agree  with  your  mother." 

"Mama  has  a  wonderful  high  education!"  said 
Barnabetta,  her  face  aglow  with  pride  and  affection. 
"Much  higher  than  Abel  Buchter." 

"So  I  surmised  from  a  letter  I  received  from 
her." 

"Yes,  you  could  tell  it  at  her  letters,  could  n't  you? 
I  never  expect  to  be  so  educated ;  but  anyhow  I  want 

134 


Barnabetta  and  the  President 

to  learn  enough  so  I  don't  give  her  a  shamed  face  for 
me  still." 

"Have  you  entered  the  first  or  second  Preparatory 
class?" 

"They  put  me  in  the  first  in  some  things  and  in 
the  second  in  others.  I  wish,"  she  said  wistfully, 
"I  could  be  in  some  of  your  classes." 

"Yes?"  He  considered  it  as  he  looked  at  her. 
' '  I  might  try  you  in  my  Freshman  Shakespeare  class. 
If  it  seems  more  than  you  can  manage,  you  can  of 
course  drop  back  again  into  the  Preparatory  English. 
But  I  should  really  like  to  try  you. ' ' 

"I  '11  study  hard  so  I  can  stay  in  your  class,  Mr. 
Barrett,"  she  gratefully  promised,  her  face  glowing 
again  with  pleasure. 

Her  point  of  view  in  things  literary  was  so  re 
freshing,  he  promised  himself  some  diversion  in  hav 
ing  her  in  his  class. 

There  was  a  pause,  here,  in  their  conversation  and 
he  thought  of  rising  to  dismiss  her.  But  he  did  not. 
He  sat  still  and  looked  at  her.  She  returned  his  gaze 
serenely,  deep  contentment  shining  in  her  eyes.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  his  secretary  would  marvel  at 
the  length  of  their  interview. 

"Are  you  taking  up  Latin?"  he  inquired. 

"No,  sir.  Mama  won't  leave  me.  You  see,"  she 
said  gravely,  "it  's  the  language  of  Poppery  and  is 
spoken  by  the  Romish  Pope ! ' ' 

"Ah?" 

135 


Barnabetta 

"Yes,  sir,"  Barnabetta  gravely  shook  her  head. 
"Mama  is  not  as  narrow  as  some,  but  she  says  we 
must  draw  the  line  somewhere." 

"Some  day,"  he  said,  smiling  upon  her  kindly, 
"when  you  have  studied  history  a  little  while,  you  '11 
know  that  the  Eoman  Church,  the  great  historic 
Church  of  Christendom,  is  very  wonderful  and  beau 
tiful — in  spite  of  some  splotches  on  its  grand  old 
face!" 

"I  thought,"  she  said  wonderingly,  "that  it  was 
anti-Christ  and  idolatrous. ' ' 

"Not  more  so  than  all  other  churches  are.  And 
it  has  what  none  of  the  rest  have — a  sublime  historic 
background,  the  only  great  religious  music  that  has 
ever  been  written,  the  only  great  and  beautiful  ritual. 
What  languages  are  you  studying?" 

"I  'm  taking  up  French  because  Mama  wants  to 
take  me  some  time  to  Paris,  the  City  of  Sin." 

"The  City  of  Sin?    Ah,  yes.     Does  she?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Abel  Buchter  told  her  she  had  n't  ought 
to.  He  says  Paris  is  dangerous  for  females.  He  read 
somewheres  that  in  Paris  the  gentlemen  don't  think 
anything  at  all  of  insulting  the  ladies!" 

The  electric  bells  announcing  dinner  at  this  moment 
sounded  through  the  building  and  Barnabetta  rose. 

"Well,  I  must  go  now,"  she  said  reluctantly,  as 
Dr.  Barrett  also  rose.  "I  feel  better  now  we  Ve 
talked  it  over  about  Shakespeare." 

"Then  I  'm  glad  you  came." 
136 


Barnabetta  and  the  President 

"Maybe  I  '11  feel  for  coming  again  sometime  if  I 
have  homesick." 

They  crossed  the  room  together  and  he  opened  the 
door  for  her  and  bowed  her  out.  But  a  formal  man 
ner  on  the  part  of  a  man  was  a  thing  so  unfamiliar 
to  her  that  she  stood  spell-bound,  fascinated. 

"Well?"  he  curiously  asked,  holding  the  door  ajar. 

"You  put  me  in  mind  of  a  gentleman  in  a  moving- 
picture  show  Mama  took  me  to  see  once,"  she  said, 
a  wave  of  color  suddenly  flooding  her  face. 
"Good-by,"  she  added  cordially,  even  affectionately; 
and  her  clumsy  soles  sounded  heavily  on  the  bare 
floors  of  the  ante-room  where  his  secretary  worked  at 
her  typewriter. 

The  young  college  president  closed  his  door  and 
went  thoughtfully  back  to  his  desk. 

"Well,"  he  said  to  himself,  a  smile  on  his  lips,  but 
a  softened  light  in  his  cold  eyes,  "such  a  refreshing 
absence  of  self-consciousness  I  have  never  before  en 
countered  in  one  of  her  sex ! ' ' 


137 


CHAPTER  XVI 

INTRODUCING  MRS.  WINTHEOP 

PRESIDENT  BARRETT'S  sister,  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  of  Boston,  felt  herself  somewhat  martyred, 
in  being  obliged  to  give  up  a  winter  at  home  for  one  in 
this  out-of-the-way  Middleton.  But  her  affection  for 
her  brother,  who  was  eight  years  her  junior,  no  less 
than  her  concern  lest  in  a  college  for  women  he  might 
be  " taken  in"  and  betrayed  into  an  unsuitable  mar 
riage  (men  were  so  stupid  about  women!)  made  her 
a  willing  martyr.  There  were  compensations,  too; 
she  was  nearer  her  daughter  than  when  in  Boston, 
for  Bryn  Mawr  was  only  sixty  miles  from  Middleton. 
Also,  being  of  the  old,  frugal,  Puritan  stock,  she  was 
not  above  rejoicing,  though  a  woman  of  considerable 
wealth,  in  the  fact  that  by  living  with  her  brother, 
she  not  only  saved  her  own  household  expenses,  but 
would  add  to  her  income  the  high  rent  easily  obtain 
able  for  her  distinguished  old  mansion  on  Beacon 
Street.  Indeed,  the  financial  aspect  of  her  brother's 
proposition  that  she  keep  house  for  him  at  Stevens 
College,  was  what  did  eventually  govern  her  decision 
to  accept  it,  for  after  all,  Edgar,  unlike  most  men, 
could  be  pretty  well  trusted  not  to  blunder  when  it 

138 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

came  to  so  vital  a  matter  as  his  marriage.  He  was 
fastidious  about  women  and  even,  some  of  his  friends 
thought,  a  bit  fanatical  in  his  views  as  to  the  value 
and  importance  of  blood  and  breeding.  He  had  al 
ways  been  considered,  by  those  who  did  not  under 
stand  how  such  a  matter  could  be  a  governing  and 
vital  principle  in  a  man's  life,  to  be  pretty  much  of 
a  snob.  No,  it  was  inconceivable  that  Edgar  could 
ever  be  beguiled,  by  even  the  most  subtly  designing 
of  women,  into  marrying  beneath  him. 

At  the  same  time,  women  were  wily,  and  men  some 
times  so  gullible;  and,  too,  Edgar  was  such  a  home 
lover  that  the  mere  circumstance  of  his  being  cut  off 
from  all  family  ties,  with  only  a  hired  housekeeper 
over  his  establishment,  might  drive  him  into  an  in 
discretion.  So,  for  a  year  or  two,  until  her  daughter 
Marion  was  graduated  and  ready  to  come  out  in 
Boston,  and  Edgar  had  become  securely  engaged  to 
the  right  sort  of  a  girl,  Mrs.  Winthrop  would  will 
ingly  sacrifice  herself. 

She  had  the  consolation  of  being  followed  into  her 
exile  by  the  sympathy  and  admiration  of  her  friends 
at  home  for  her  heroic  unselfishness ;  for  of  course  as 
none  of  them  had  ever  heard  of  this  place  called 
"Middleton,"  it  must  be  awful!  Indeed,  they  had 
scarcely  heard,  in  Boston,  of  any  place  ' '  back  in  Penn 
sylvania,"  except  of  course  Philadelphia — and  per 
haps  vaguely  of  Pittsburg  in  connection  with  Andrew 
Carnegie  or  the  Thaw  murder  trial. 

139 


Barnabetta 

Mrs.  "Winthrop  early  realized  that  she  was  not 
a  success  in  Middleton ;  that  she  was  criticized,  dis 
liked.  This,  from  her  point  of  view,  was  the  highest 
compliment  Middleton  could  pay  her.  She  certainly 
did  not  expect  it  to  take  the  liberty  of  being  fond  of 
her. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  she  had  appealed  to 
her  brother  after  an  afternoon  spent  in  receiving  visits 
from  the  leading  ladies  of  the  town  and  of  the  college 
families,  "that  I  am  expected  to  return  these  visits — 
to  call  on  these  people?" 

"Send  your  cards.  That  's  the  easiest  way  to  dis 
pose  of  them,"  he  advised,  little  dreaming  what  a 
sensation  such  an  unheard-of  proceeding  would  create. 

One  day,  at  the  same  hour  in  which  President  Bar 
rett  was  closeted  in  his  office  with  Barnabetta,  Mrs. 
Winthrop,  seated  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  Presi 
dent's  Residence,  was  undergoing  her  inevitable  daily 
boredom  at  the  hands  of  afternoon  visitors. 

This  drawing-room,  newly  furnished  in  good,  sub 
stantial,  but,  to  Mrs.  "Winthrop 's  taste,  very  hideous 
Victorian  furniture,  domestic  rugs  and  the  newest 
thing  in  curtains,  was  in  itself  so  exasperating  to  her 
that  it  could  not  fail  to  color  her  impressions  of  the 
"callers"  who  alone  brought  her  into  the  room. 

A  self-centered  woman,  incapable  of  feeling  an 
other's  point  of  view,  her  manner  with  her  last  linger 
ing  visitor  to-day,  was,  as  usual,  far  from  calcu 
lated  to  put  the  latter  at  her  ease.  Of  medium 

140 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

height  and  well-built,  Mrs.  Winthrop 's  very  ele 
gant  widow's  black  and  white  made  her  a  dis 
tinguished  and  unusual  figure  in  Middleton.  She 
greatly  resembled  her  brother,  having  the  same  cold 
gray  eyes  and  slightly  supercilious  mouth.  But  her 
countenance  lacked  both  the  fineness  and  the  thought- 
fulness  of  his.  It  was  not,  as  was  his,  an  indisputably 
high-bred  face,  inasmuch  as  breeding  is  obviously  not 
merely  a  matter  of  inheritance  or  environment,  but 
depends  somewhat  upon  one's  spiritual  self -discipline. 

"How  charmingly  they  have  fixed  up  the  dear  old 
Kesidence ! ' '  remarked  Mrs.  Grayson,  the  visitor,  try 
ing  to  make  talk  with  her  stiff  and  unresponsive  host 
ess,  for  Mrs.  "Winthrop  had  a  very  disconcerting  way 
of  leaving  the  whole  burden  of  conversation  to  the 
other  person. 

Mrs.  Grayson  was  a  middle-aged,  rather  pretty  wo 
man,  clad  for  the  important  occasion  of  her  call  on 
the  President's  reputedly  formidable  sister,  in  a  cos 
tume  so  faultless  as  to  bring  out  the  best  in  any 
woman.  And  her  state  of  mind  did  match  her  perfect 
clothing,  for  she  felt  a  complacent  confidence  in  her 
ability  to  meet  Mrs.  Winthrop  on  her  own  high  plane ; 
perhaps  her  real  attitude  was  even  a  bit  patronizing 
— the  feeling  of  an  old  inhabitant  of  established  po 
sition  towards  a  new  one  who  was  as  yet  on  sufferance. 

' '  The  Committee  have  shown  suck  good  taste  in  the 
refurnishing  of  the  house,  haven't  they?"  she  con 
tinued  as  her  first  remark  was  met  by  silence. 

141 


Barnabetta 

Mrs.  Winthrop,  regarding  her  with  a  polite  toler 
ance,  did  not  seem  to  think  that  these  gratuitous  com 
ments  upon  her  home  called  for  any  reply. 

"Many  of  us  felt  it  did  not  really  need  refurnish 
ing,"  Mrs.  Grayson  went  on,  "but  of  course  it  was 
not  at  all  up  to  date,  and  the  trustees  wanted  to  offer 
Dr.  Barrett  every  possible  inducement  to  come  to 
us." 

Mrs.  Winthrop,  not  responding,  looked  as  though 
waiting  civilly  for  her  visitor  to  get  through  with 
what  she  had  come  for,  and  go. 

Mrs.  Grayson  breathed  deep  and  tried  once  more. 

"You  will  find  that  Middleton  is  in  every  way  a 
very  progressive  town,  Mrs.  Winthrop.  Its  standards 
both  socially  and  in  a  business  way  are  quite  those  of 
the  large  cities." 

Mrs.  Winthrop,  looking  unimpressed,  murmured  a 
monosyllable. 

Mrs.  Grayson  began  to  feel  queer.  These  pauses 
were  so  absurd !  She  hastened  to  cover  this  one. 

"I  suppose  by  this  time  you  are  feeling  quite  at 
home  in  Middleton?  It  is  considered  a  very  home 
like  town.  And  quite  noted  for  its  hospitality." 

"Yes?" 

The  response  was  not  inspiring,  but  thankful  by 
this  time  for  small  favors,  Mrs.  Grayson  went  on: 

"Of  course  it  must  seem  a  great  change  from 
Boston." 

Mrs.  Winthrop  had  nothing  to  say  to  this. 
142 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

"But  I  hope  you  find  it  not  wholly  an  unpleasant 
change?"  said  Mrs.  Grayson,  smiling  encouragingly. 

Still  the  only  reply  vouchsafed  was  the  fixed,  pa 
tient  gaze  of  Mrs.  Winthrop 's  cold  gray  eyes. 

Mrs.  Grayson  relaxed  and  sank  back  in  her  chair. 
What  did  it  mean?  In  any  one  else  she  would  have 
put  it  down  to  stupidity,  ignorance,  crudity.  She 
was  tempted  to  abandon  her  efforts  and  throw  back 
upon  her  hostess  the  responsibility  of  the  conversa 
tion.  But  after  an  instant  the  silence  was  too  pain 
ful,  and  again  she  nervously  hastened  to  cover  it. 

''Well,  we  shall  have  a  busy  time  here  next  week, 
shan't  we,  with  the  Convention  meeting  in  Middle- 
ton  ?  Shall  you  have  yourself  transferred  to  the  Mid- 
dleton  Chapter?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon?" 

"Of  course  you  are  a  Daughter?" 

"A  'daughter'?" 

"A  D.  A.  E.  I  mean,  of  course,"  explained  Mrs. 
Grayson  wonderingly.  "You  belong  to  the  Boston 
Chapter?" 

"I  am  not  a  Daughter  of  the  Revolution." 

"Not  a  Daughter!"  repeated  Mrs.  Grayson,  aston 
ished.  "You?  But  I  understood — pardon  me — but 
we  all  understood  that  you  and  Dr.  Barrett  were  de 
scendants  of  the  old  Barrett  family  of  Massachu 
setts!" 

"Yes?"  Mrs.  Winthrop,  looking  bored,  neither 
confirmed  nor  denied  it. 


Barnabetta 

"So  of  course  you  are  eligible  for  membership  in 
theD.  A.  R's." 

"No." 

"Not  eligible?"  Mrs.  Grayson  exclaimed  with  wide- 
open  eyes.  Not  to  be  eligible  to  this  honorable  and 
beloved  organization  was,  in  her  estimation,  to  be  quite 
outside  the  pale  of  "society." 

Mrs.  "Winthrop  did  not  feel  it  incumbent  upon  her 
to  reiterate  her  denial  or  to  explain  the  damning 
fact. 

"But  how  can  you  not  be  eligible?"  Mrs.  Grayson 
persisted — thinking  to  herself,  "She  '11  at  least  have 
to  answer  a  direct  question." 

"My  people  were  Tories." 

Mrs.  Grayson  stared,  realizing  in  a  flash  what  had 
never  before  occurred  to  her  as  a  possibility — that 
there  could  be  in  America  any  more  distinguished 
origin  than  that  of  the  D.  A.  R.  's.  But  quickly  rally 
ing  her  scattered  forces  and  summoning  all  her  pa 
triotism,  she  said  firmly,  ' '  How  sorry  you  must  be  for 
that!" 

"  'Sorry'?" 

"That  your  ancestors  had  no  part  in  our  glorious 
Revolution  and  in  the  forming  of  our  great  Re 
public!" 

"Oh,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  smiled,  "I  don't  remember 
ever  losing  sleep  over  it!" 

Mrs.  Grayson  felt  suddenly  convinced  that  her  cus 
tomary  attitude  of  smug  superiority  towards  non- 
144 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

eligibles  was  a  justifiable  one  and  that  Mrs.  "Win 
throp 's  true  feeling  about  it  was  no  doubt  chagrin 
and  mortification. 

''Well,"  she  remarked,  rising  to  go,  upon  which 
Mrs.  Winthrop  looked  very  frankly  relieved,  "even 
if  you  are  not  eligible,  it  need  not  debar  you  from  the 
pleasure  of  attending  some  of  our  interesting  meet 
ings.  I  am  privileged,  as  a  member  of  the  Middleton 
Chapter,  to  invite  you  to  the  open  session  at  the  Court 
House  next  Wednesday  afternoon.  It  will  be  a  very 
interesting  meeting — an  historical  paper  will  be  read 
by  the  State  Regent,  the  Stevens  Glee  Club  will  sing 
'Pennsylvania,  Song  of  the  Keystone  State,'  and 
Miss  Jamison  will  recite.  I  hope  you  will  come  as 
my  guest.  You  can  feel  perfectly  free  to,  Mrs.  Win 
throp,"  she  graciously  added.  "And  I  am  sure  the 
Daughters  will  make  you  feel  perfectly  at  home." 

"Thank  you.  I  shall  be  in  Philadelphia  next 
Wednesday  attending  a  meeting  of  the  Colonial 
Dames." 

Again  Mrs.  Grayson  stared.  She  had  heard  of  the 
Colonial  Dames.  She  had  thought  of  them  as  one 
thinks  of  the  Alps — as  afar  and  august.  She  had 
scarcely  expected  ever  to  see  one  in  the  flesh.  And 
here  was  a  Colonial  Dame  in  the  very  same  room  with 
her! 

""Are  they  all  descended  from  Tories?"  she  asked 
disparagingly. 

"Naturally  not." 

145 


Barnabetta 

Mrs.  Grayson  took  her  leave  in  a  state  of  mental 
confusion  from  which  she  did  not  soon  recover. 

An  hour  later,  Edgar  Barrett,  in  evening  dress, 
joined  his  sister  as  she  waited  in  the  library  for  the 
arrival  of  some  dinner  guests. 

"Well?"  he  said  questioningly,  as  he  noted  her 
elaborate  gown.  "We  are  not  dining  alone?" 

"Only  Miss  Jordan  and  her  brother." 

Barrett  did  not  notice  how  warily  she  watched  him 
as  she  pronounced  these  names.  ' '  Good ! "  he  nodded. 
' '  How  fortunate  for  you,  Elizabeth,  to  have  Theodora 
Jordan  here;  one  congenial  acquaintance  for  you, 
even  though  she  is  years  younger — a  mere  girl,  in 
fact,"  he  remarked,  strolling  across  the  floor  and 
standing  before  the  open  fire,  the  spacious,  book-lined 
room  making  a  fit  setting  for  his  clear-cut,  intelligent 
face  and  lean,  broad-shouldered  figure  in  his  black 
clothing. 

"Yes,"  responded  Elizabeth,  "Theodora  Jordan  is 
a  consolation!  For  in  spite  of  her  rearing  in  this 
place,  she  is  wholly  like  her  mother's  people  in  Bos 
ton,  isn't  she?" 

"Oh,  yes,  except  that  she  's  beautiful,  she  's  an 
out-and-out  Herrick,"  said  Barrett.  "Middleton  has 
scarcely  fazed  her — though  note  the  fact  that  she  is 
quite  sentimentally  loyal  to  it, ' '  he  smiled. 

"I  know  she  is,"  Elizabeth  shrugged.  "All  the 
same,  she  is  constantly  running  off  to  stay  with  her 
Aunt  Herrick  in  Boston." 

146 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

"  'Miss  Jordan  and  her  brother,'  you  said;  why 
does  no  one  ever  dream  of  speaking  of  Judge  Jordan 
and  his  sister?  It  's  always  the  other  way  'round, 
you  '11  observe — and  she  such  an  ethereal  wraith  of  a 
girl — and  he  a  very  able  and  forceful  man,  even  if  he 
is  a  bit  crude  and  clumsy.  You  Ve  noticed,  haven't 
you,  how  that  burly,  middle-aged  man  lets  that  slen 
der  strip  of  a  woman  dominate  him?  Funny,  isn't 
it?" 

"He  is  an  idolatrous  elder  brother,"  Elizabeth 
granted.  "But  with  good  reason — Theodora  is  a 
sister  any  right-minded  brother  would  have  to  be 
proud  of.  And  of  course  he  feels  like  a  father  to  her 
— he  really  brought  her  up,  you  know." 

"Yes,  but  she  's  not  at  all  a  dominating  woman — 
which  makes  it  so  surprising  that  she  should  rule 
Jordan  the  way  she  does  (no  one  else  ever  ventures  to 
dictate  to  him,  let  me  assure  you!),  and  that  she,  ap 
parently,  sets  the  pace  in  this  town  for  everything 
going.  She  's  at  the  head  of  every  public  movement, 
while  at  the  same  time,"  Barrett  continued  in  a  tone 
of  perplexity,  "she  's  so  feminine,  so  lovely!  Don't 
you  find  it  odd?" 

"Edgar,  nothing  escapes  you!  Yes,  the  women 
here  defer  to  her  in  everything.  But  naturally,  she 
would  dominate  here  simply  by  reason  of  her  superi 
ority  in  every  way  to  the  rest  of  them.  She  is  so 
gifted — like  all  those  Herricks !  And  as  she  was  born 
and  reared  here,  the  people  don't  resent  her  superior- 

147 


Barnabetta 

ity  as  they  would  that  of  an  outsider,  but  are  proud 
of  it." 

"Have  you  any  idea,"  Barrett  casually  asked,  "how 
old  she  is?" 

"Twenty-eight." 

"She  's  intellectually  mature  even  for  that  ripe 
age,"  he  said  musingly. 

"And  fortunately,"  Elizabeth  added,  "while  she 
has  the  Herrick  brains,  she  does  not,  as  you  said,  in 
herit  their  looks ! ' ' 

' '  Yes,  she  's  lucky  to  have  escaped  that ! ' ' 

"You  think  her  very  good-looking,  Edgar?" 

"Could  there  be  two  opinions  as  to  that?  She  is 
exquisite !  Do  you  know, ' '  he  said,  strolling  about  the 
room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  "mere  feminine 
prettiness,  the  girlish  prettiness,  for  instance,  of  these 
college  students,  far  from  attracting  me  as  it  does  most 
men,  irritates  me — it  is  so  often  perverted  by  their 
silly  self -consciousness,  their  tiresome  shallowness. 
Unlike  most  men,  I  could  more  easily  fall  in  love  with 
ugliness  that  expressed  mind  and  character.  It  is 
most  rare  for  a  woman's  beauty  to  so  perfectly  ex 
press  her,  as  Theodora  Jordan's  delicate  loveliness 
expresses  in  every  way  her  fineness,  isn't  it?" 

"Most  rare,  Edgar,"  Elizabeth  responded,  looking 
the  satisfaction  she  felt,  but  not  trusting  herself  to 
a  more  enthusiastic  agreement  with  him  for  fear  she 
should  go  too  far  and  defeat  her  own  dear  desire ;  for 
she  knew  too  well  her  brother's  whimsical  taciturnity; 

148 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

overpraise  of  this  woman  he  so  admired  would  be  very 
apt  to  satiate  him  at  the  very  start. 

A  silence  fell  between  them  while  they  waited  to 
hear  the  door-bell  announce  their  guests. 

Mrs.  Winthrop  was  happily  convinced  that  with  so 
attractive  and  intelligent  a  young  lady  as  Miss  Jordan 
in  the  Middleton  arena,  in  every  way  a  most  suitable 
match  for  Edgar,  her  own  release  from  exile  here 
would  not  be  far  distant.  It  seemed,  indeed,  provi 
dential  that  a  girl  so  preeminently  fitted  to  be  Edgar's 
wife  should  actually  be  living  in  this  ridiculous  town 
and  even  be  fond  of  it! — her  elder  half-brother  not 
only  the  foremost  citizen  of  the  place,  but,  most  for 
tuitously,  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of 
Stevens  College. 

It  was  fortunate,  too,  she  reflected,  that  Edgar,  ob 
servant  though  he  was,  did  not  recognize  beneath 
Miss  Jordan's  womanly  loveliness,  that  which  no  one 
but  Mrs.  Winthrop  did  seem  to  see  in  the  girl — a 
strain  of  obstinacy  that  so  often  (Heaven  knows  why !) 
is  the  accompaniment  of  an  extreme  sweetness  of  man 
ner.  Edgar  did  not  dream  that  it  was  by  reason  of  an 
indomitable  stubbornness  and  an  egotism  which  made 
prominence  and  power  the  very  breath  of  her  life, 
that  Theodora  ruled  her  big,  strong  brother  and  man 
aged  all  the  important  doings  of  Middleton.  Indeed, 
most  of  those  under  her  sway  did  not  suspect  these 
qualities  and  thought  their  homage  due,  as  Mrs.  Win 
throp  had  not'  quite  candidly  suggested  to  Edgar,  to 

149 


Barnabetta 

the  young  woman's  unquestioned  "superiority"  to 
every  one  else  in  Middleton. 

It  did  not  trouble  Mrs.  "Winthrop  that  such  charac 
teristics  in  a  wife  might  make  for  her  brother's  un- 
happiness.  She  knew  Edgar  too  well.  His  own  wil- 
fulness  and  selfishness  would  certainly  be  a  match 
for  that  of  any  woman — even  of  one  with  a  will  and 
a  self-love  as  invincible  as  Theodora's.  Yes,  there 
was  no  doubt  about  it,  these  two  strong  natures,  if 
they  did  come  together,  would  be  well  matched,  would 
do  each  other  no  end  of  good. 

"A  really  gentle,  sensitive  woman  married  to  Ed 
gar, — well,  I  should  not  envy  her !  I  am  sure  he  will 
need  to  be  held  down  a  bit  in  his  domestic  rela 
tions.  ' ' 

Edgar,  meantime,  his  mind  reverting  to  the  recent 
hour  in  his  office  with  the  odd  little  girl  from  the 
country,  found  himself  unaccountably  reluctant  to 
speak  of  her  to  his  sister.  Several  times  he  opened 
his  lips  to  amuse  Elizabeth  with  an  account  of  Barna 
betta  's  apologies  for  admiring  Shakespeare,  her  horror 
of  "Poppery, "  her  gratuitous  information  as  to  an 
cient  Christian  persecutions,  and,  most  impressive  of 
all,  her  refreshingly  self-possessed  and  comrade-like 
manner  with  himself.  But  he  closed  his  lips — and 
wondered  at  himself. 

"I  would  only  give  Elizabeth  a  false  impression  of 
her.  She  would  think  her  forward,  vulgar — and  she 
is  n  't.  One  would  have  to  see  her  to  understand  that 

150 


Introducing  Mrs.  Winthrop 

subtle  quality  in  her  of — I  scarcely  know  of  what — a 
sort  of  spiritual  fragrance ! ' ' 

On  second  thoughts,  however,  he  doubted  whether 
Elizabeth,  of  an  unsympathetic  temperament,  would, 
even  if  she  did  meet  the  damsel,  be  capable  of  realiz 
ing  that  quality — elusive  and  indefinable  as  it  was ! 

"I  hope,"  his  sister  broke  in  upon  his  meditation, 
,  "that  Theodora's  loyalty  to  Middleton  does  not  go 
so  far  as  to  admire  the  furnishings  of  this  house ! ' ' 

But  before  her  brother  could  reply,  the  door-bell 
rang  and  the  butler  announced  their  guests. 


151 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THEODORA  JORDAN 

NO  wonder  Judge  Jordan's  gaze  rested  so  often 
upon  his  young  half-sister  with  a  pride  akin  to 
adoration,  thought  Barrett,  as  after  their  delightful 
dinner  talk,  the  party  of  four  sat  with  their  coffee 
about  the  library  fire.  So  ethereal  did  the  young  lady 
look  in  her  white  gown  that  she  seemed  to  Barrett 
less  like  a  flesh  and  blood  woman  than  the  diapha 
nous  embodiment  of  a  poet's  dream;  of  an  artist's 
vision;  somewhat  "too  high  and  fine  for  human  na 
ture's  daily  food."  Her  large,  pensive  eyes,  her  ten 
der,  exquisite  mouth,  her  white  forehead  crowned  with 
dark  hair,  her  beautiful  hands  and  slim,  graceful 
form,  she  was  herself  another  expression  of  the  music 
she  would  presently  play  for  them  so  satisfyingly,  of 
the  really  fine  verse  she  occasionally  contributed  to 
leading  magazines,  of  her  own  high  ideals  of  life  and 
of  culture.  No  wonder  that  merely  by  virtue  of  her 
lovely  personality  this  tender  young  creature  prac 
tically  ruled  the  women  of  Middleton  as  well  as  this 
virile  man,  her  brother. 

It  would  have  been  inconceivable  to  Barrett  that  the 
one  great  worry  of  Theodora's  life  had  always  been 

152 


Theodora  Jordan 

and  still  was  the  warding  off  from  her  portly,  middle- 
aged  half-brother  the  designing  women  whom  she  was 
constantly  suspecting  of  making  love  to  him.  Barrett 
thought  her  infinitely  removed  from  the  possibility 
of  such  commonplaceness. 

She  was  speaking,  now,  as  they  sat  about  the  library 
fire,  of  a  recent  exhibit  in  Boston  of  Rodin's  work. 
It  was  significant  that  invariably  the  first  note  of  her 
low,  soft  voice  brought,  in  any  gathering,  a  hush  of 
expectancy. 

' '  Rodin  really  does  speak  to  us,  you  know — he  has  a 
great  message.  His  work  is  not  merely  brilliant 
technique — it  is  so  very  much  more! — it  expresses 
reality !  You  know  what  Bernard  Shaw  says  of  him  ? 
'  Rodin 's  hand  worked,  not  as  a  sculptor 's  hand  works, 
but  as  the  Life  Force  works. '  ' 

Judge  Jordan  had  a  disconcerting  way,  whenever 
his  dazzling  sister  talked,  of  beaming  upon  her  listen 
ers  with  a  countenance  that  exclaimed ' '  Hear !  Hear ! ' ' 

"Mere  brilliancy  of  technique,"  she  continued, 
"without  a  vital  content, — in  any  art, — always  has  the 
effect  of  making  me  perfectly  blue — it  seems  so  empty, 
so  not-worth-while." 

"How  she  can  distinguish  those  that  have  from 
those  that  haven't  a  'content,'  as  she  calls  it,  floors 
me/"  remarked  her  admiring  brother. 

Theodora,  patiently  tolerant  of  her  Philistine  rela 
tive,  neither  looked  at  nor  answered  him. 

"To  be  sure,"  argued  Barrett,  "while  one  can't 
153 


Barnabetta 

be  simply  a  stylist  and  nothing  more,  since  you  've 
got  to  have  something  to  style  about — nevertheless, 
the  how  it  is  done  does  signify  tremendously.  You 
don't  believe,  Miss  Jordan,  in  Art  for  Art's  sake?" 

"But,"  she  smiled  up  at  him,  "does  any  one  pre 
tend  to  know  what  the  hard- worked  phrase  means  ? ' ' 

"Beauty  for  Beauty's  sake,  then.  That  a  perfec 
tion  of  artistic  expression  is  a  sufficient  end  in  it 
self." 

"  'Artistic  expression' — yes,  but  of  what?  Of  the 
beauty,  the  sacredness  of  life  ? ' ' 

' '  Of  its  ugliness  and  devilishness  as  well, ' '  insisted 
Barrett. 

"Yes,  if  you  let  the  darker  phases  serve  only  to 
throw  into  relief  the  glory  of  the  universe.  'Ugli 
ness,  devilishness, '  are  shadows,  not  realities. ' ' 

' '  Not  realities  ?  The  devil  they  are  n  't ! "  exclaimed 
the  Judge,  for  whom  this  statement  seemed  to  be  too 
much.  "Ah,"  he  hastily  added  as  he  caught  his  sis 
ter's  sad,  surprised  gaze.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  la 
dies!  I  don't  often  swear  in  the  presence  of  ladies! 
Well,  to  be  sure,"  he  said,  addressing  Barrett,  "a 
woman  like  Theodora  can't  be  expected  to  realize  that 
ugliness  and  devilishness  are  realities.  We  shouldn't 
want  our  dear  women  to  realize  that ! ' ' 

"There,  there,  David,  darling,"  Theodora  patted 
his  big  hand  to  quiet  him  as  though  he  were  a  forward 
child — and  he,  looking  snubbed,  sank  back  deeper  into 
the  huge  leather  chair  which  he  amply  filled. 

154 


Theodora  Jordan 

"Truth  and  Beauty,"  she  said  reverently,  turning 
to  Barrett,  "are  the  only  realities." 

"We  don't  all  agree,  however,  as  to  what  is  truth 
and  what  beauty,"  returned  Barrett. 

"But  there  are  certain  fundamental  standards. 
Those  finer  phases  of  feeling  and  of  thought  that  elude 
expression  must  really  be  the  source  and  the  basis  of 
our  'faith'  both  in  art  and  in  religion." 

"Now  will  you  hear  that!"  Jordan's  beaming  coun 
tenance  seemed  to  say.  "And  she's  my  little  sister!" 

Her  earnestness  had  brought  a  faint  flush  to  her 
delicate  face  which  stirred  an  answering  glow  in  Bar 
rett's  soul  as  he  gazed  at  her. 

"I  wonder,"  he  remarked  speculatively,  "whether 
it  is  possible  for  us  native  New  Englanders  ever  to 
come  out  from  our  inherited  limitations  enough  to 
really  understand  great  art — the  abandon,  the  let-go, 
that  is  behind  all  big  creations.  Personally  I  don't 
believe  that  it  is.  We  are  too  hopelessly  hide-bound, 
self-conscious,  self-righteous,  decent,  and  civilized!" 

"But,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  interpolated,  "you  say  it 
as  though  you  were  proud  of  the  fact!  I  know  him 
too  well,"  she  informed  the  others,  "to  believe  in  his 
depreciation  of  himself  and  his  standards!  A  New 
Englander,  like  an  old  Englander,  believes  in  himself 
to  the  extent  of  thinking  his  shortcomings  quite  su 
perior  to  other  people's  virtues." 

Theodora's  eyes  rested  upon  her  absently,  while 
Judge  Jordan  laughed  appreciatively. 

155 


Barnabetta 

"Too  civilized?"  Theodora  repeated  Barrett's 
words.  "But  it  is  only  in  a  high  state  of  civilization 
that  art  develops." 

"And  in  the  next  higher  stage  of  civilization,  it 
becomes  decadent,"  said  Barrett. 

"It  will  not  when  the  artist  becomes  the  teacher  of 
truth,  of  reality,  of  religion." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Barrett,  smiling,  "when  the 
artist  becomes  a  cultivated  Puritan,  then  art  and 
civilization  are  saved,  eh?  I  'm  afraid  we  Anglo- 
Saxons  can't  get  away  from  that  point  of  view!  We 
all  need — as  Mrs.  Browning  has  told  us — to  live  in 
Italy  a  few  years  to  be  cured  of  our  provincialism." 

Theodora,  who  prided  herself  on  her  breadth  of 
view,  her  freedom  from  provincialism,  winced  at 
this. 

"I  hope  I  have  got  beyond  the  place  where  one  sees 
only  through  the  medium  of  a  climate ! ' '  she  smiled. 

"Do  any  of  us  ever  get  beyond  that?" 

' '  Oh,  but  that  is  fatalism ! ' '  she  earnestly  protested. 
"  'Unless  above  himself  man  can  erect  himself,  how 
poor  a  thing  is  man ! '  Emerson  says. ' ' 

"Oh,  dear!"  thought  Mrs.  Winthrop  wearily, 
"can't  she  ever  relax?  I  suppose  she  'd  spurn  me 
forever  if  I  suggested  Bridge.  "Well,"  she  sighed  re 
signedly,  "Edgar  's  enjoying  himself — he  just  loves 
this  strained  kind  of  conversation,  thank  heaven !  If 
only  she  does  n  't  overdo  it !  The  prospect  of  such  at 
tenuated  mental  food  for  life  may  scare  even  him! 

156 


Theodora  Jordan 

It  's  well  her  brother  's  here  to  supply  an  occasional 
break!" 

' '  Ha ! ' '  the  Judge  at  this  moment  exclaimed,  draw 
ing  from  his  pocket  a  pencil  and  a  note-book.  "Let 
me  have  that  quotation,  Theodora !  I  '11  use  it  for  the 
text  of  my  speech  to-morrow  night — I  'm  to  talk,"  he 
flung  an  explanation  to  Barrett  and  Mrs.  Winthrop, 
"to  the  Men's  Progressive  League  up  in  Scranton.  I 
shall  have  some  of  their  thirty  or  forty  millionaires 
up  there  feeling  peevish  with  me  before  I  'm 
through!" 

Judge  Jordan  was  a  "self -made"  man  of  great 
practical  acumen,  who  had  built  up  a  fortune  fifteen 
years  since,  when  it  could  still  be  done  honestly.  His 
mother  had  died  at  his  birth,  and  his  father,  a  West 
ern  Bishop,  had,  years  afterwards,  married  a  second 
time,  a  Boston  woman  of  good  old  family  who  had 
died  when  her  baby  daughter,  Theodora,  was  five  years 
old.  A  year  later  the  Bishop  had  followed  his  wives, 
leaving  the  child,  Theodora,  to  the  care  of  her  half- 
brother,  who  was,  at  the  time,  making  his  own  success 
ful  way  as  a  manufacturer  in  Pennsylvania. 

To  this  big-hearted,  if  rather  crude,  son  of  the 
Bishop,  his  little  half-sister  had  been,  from  the  first, 
his  chief  concern  in  life  as  well  as  his  greatest  hap 
piness.  He  had  surrounded  her,  as  his  business  pros 
pered,  with  every  possible  luxury  and  had  given  her 
every  "advantage"  in  the  way 'of  education  that  she 
would  take.  She  had  graduated  at  college,  had 

157 


Barnabetta 

studied  music  and  languages  abroad,  had  traveled 
extensively  and  had  always  done  exactly  as  she 
pleased. 

David  Jordan  had,  years  ago,  when  Theodora  was 
in  her  teens,  determined  never  to  marry  until  she  had 
married, — partly  because  he  knew  that  his  doing  so 
would  make  her  unhappy ;  and  partly  because  his  in 
comparable  sister  had  always  made  all  other  girls  and 
women  show  up  in  his  estimation  as  so  trifling  and 
shallow  that  he  felt  sure  any  woman  he  found  tolera 
ble  would  find  him  impossible.  Therefore  matrimony 
had  long  appeared  to  him  an  exceedingly  far-off  pos 
sibility. 

Naturally  of  a  benevolent  mind,  Jordan's  abilities 
had  been  directed  of  late  years  to  finding  a  solution 
of  the  problem  of  poverty, — in  which  genuinely  ear 
nest  study  he  did  not  receive  either  the  approval  or 
the  sympathy  of  his  highly  cultured  sister,  who  held, 
with  her  maternal  Boston  relatives,  that  the  "lower 
classes"  were  providentially  created  to  serve  those  of 
a  higher  order — which,  in  a  sense,  Judge  Jordan  read 
ily  admitted  would  indisputably  be  a  just  and  benefi 
cent  provision.  The  question  in  his  mind,  however, 
was,  how  to  find  a  rule  by  which  to  determine  who 
constituted  this  higher  order  so  worthy  to  be  served; 
how  to  sift  the  human  wheat  from  the  chaff.  Natu 
rally,  this  problem  did  not  exist  for  Theodora  and  her 
maternal  relatives,  who  considered  the  matter  to  have 
been  already  adjusted  very  satisfactorily  by  Provi- 

158 


Theodora  Jordan 

deuce  and  who  held  that  any  attempt  to  disturb  its 
present  beautiful  working  was  nothing  short  of  blas 
phemous.  Hence  their  deep  disapproval  of  the 
Judge's  activities  for  the  uplift  of  the  struggling  sub 
merged.  They  would  not  have  objected  to  Philan 
thropy — that,  of  course,  was  always  commendable. 
But  to  go  about  preaching  (with  a  dangerously  per 
suasive  eloquence)  a  pernicious  doctrine  of  equal  op 
portunity  for  all,  special  privilege  for  none — it  was 
socialistic,  anarchistic,  a  disgrace  to  his  family! 

It  was  in  this  one  matter,  however, — fast  becoming 
his  ruling  love, — that  his  sister's  wishes  had  no  weight 
with  him ;  that  he  resolutely  kept,  in  spite  of  her  pro 
tests,  to  his  chosen  line. 

"You  would  better  make  sure,  David,  dear,"  she 
mildly  warned  him  just  now,  "that  you  quite  under 
stand  Emerson's  words." 

"I  don't  care,  dearie,  what  he  meant  by  his  words. 
I  know  what  I  mean  by  them,  and  very  useful  they 
will  be  to  me — If  man  can't  build  himself  above  the 
animal  that  's  in  him,  above  his  natural  greed  and  self 
ishness,"  he  scribbled  as  he  wrote,  "he  'd  better  be 
come  an  extinct  species  as  fast  as  possible ;  for  in  his 
natural  state  he  's  not  worth  the  cost  of  his  keep. 
All  that  is  needed  to  bring  order  out  of  the  moral 
chaos  of  our  day,  is  that  man  shall  cease  to  be  gov 
erned  solely  by  his  animal  instinct  of  self-preservation 
and  shall  recognize  a  higher  law  of  human  relation 
ship.  Then  will  manufacturers  cease  to  clamor  for 

159 


Barnabetta 

protection  which  protects  their  interests  at  the  ex 
pense  of  the  people's.  Then  will  the  people  cease 
their  senseless  cry  of  'Back  to  competition!' — com 
petition  which  means  the  scrambling  of  chickens  for 
the  best  corn,  the  crowding  and  pushing  of  pigs  to  get 
to  the  sty!  Then  will  the  race  of  luxurious,  para 
sitical  women  pass  away,  as  will  also  the  race  of  pau 
pers!" 

''Don't  you  feel  it  very  dangerous,"  said  Barrett 
coldly,  who  hated  the  Judge's  democratic  and  radical 
theories,  "to  be  talking  that  kind  of  thing  up  there  in 
Scranton  with  its  large  population  of  malcontents?" 

"Not  nearly  so  dangerous  as  to  keep  on  in  our 
course  of  defrauding  the  '  malcontents '  of  their  human 
rights." 

"Of  what  'human  rights'  is  any  man  defrauded  in 
these  all  too  liberal  days?"  demanded  Barrett,  re 
pressing  with  difficulty  the  scorn  which,  as  Jordan's 
host,  he  could  not  decently  express. 

"The  human  right  to  a  living  wage,  that  's  all," 
returned  Jordan. 

"A  living  wage! — when  carpenters  earn  more  than 
college  professors;  cooks  more  than  school-teachers; 
when  never  in  the  history  of  the  world  were  such  high 
wages  paid  to  the  working  classes — with  the  sole  result 
that  never  before  were  those  classes  so  incapable,  lazy, 
and  impertinent ;  never  were  their  demands  so  unrea 
sonably  exorbitant!" 

* '  That  is  perfectly  true, ' '  admitted  Jordan.  ' '  Con- 
160 


Theodora  Jordan 

flict  and  wrong  there  will  be  on  both  sides  until  we 
replace  the  spirit  of  selfishness  and  greed  with  the 
spirit  of  love." 

"As  if  the  lower  classes  can  ever  be  anything 
else  than  greedy  animals!"  said  Barrett  in  a  bored 
tone. 

"Exactly — as,  for  example,  Rockefeller,  Carnegie, 
and  their  ilk,  who  were  once  of  the  lower  classes  and 
who,  if  they  hadn't  been  'greedy  animals,'  would 
scarcely  have  hoarded  such  a  pile!  You  see,  our  so 
cial  system  is  a  system  of  grab — a  football  game  in 
which  the  devil  takes  the  weak !  Savage,  Dr.  Barrett, 
very  savage !  We  've  got  to  grow  more  civilized. ' ' 

"Nothing  would  so  quickly  kill  civilization,  art,  all 
the  beauty  of  life,"  softly  spoke  in  Theodora's  com 
pelling  voice,  "as  this  hideous  dead-level  of  equality 
you  so  impossibly  advocate,  David!" 

"I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  to  advocate  equality, 
dearie.  I  advocate  equality  of  opportunity." 

"Well,  it  isn't  practicable."  Barrett  grandly  dis 
missed  the  subject.  "Any  thinking  man  must  recog 
nize  that  it  isn't." 

The  Judge  looked  at  him  curiously.  "It  seems  to 
me  so  incredible, ' '  he  said,  ' '  that  any  true  man  should 
not  burn  with  a  sense  of  the  wrong  of  the  present 
order ! ' ' 

"I  do  burn  with  a  sense  of  the  wrong  of  it — the 
wrong  to  the  cultured  classes  of  being  obliged  to  com 
promise  with  and  even  tolerate  dictation  from  the 

161 


Barnabetta 

ignorant,  the  vulgar,  the  stupid ;  those  whose  natural 
inferiority  has  kept  them  low  in  the  scale!  I  share 
Alexander  Hamilton's  opinion  of  the  people.  'The 
people,  sir,  the  people  is  a  great  beast!'  he  said." 

"Well,"  returned  the  Judge  quietly,  " though  I  am 
not  a  professing  Christian  as  you  are,  I  do  believe,  as 
you  manifestly  do  not,  in  Jesus'  doctrine  of  human 
brotherhood. ' ' 

"Are  you  sure,  David,"  Theodora  inquired  with  her 
faintly  patronizing  air,  "that  you  quite  understand 
our  Lord's  doctrine  of  human  brotherhood?  He 
recognized,  you  know,  the  authority  of  the  existing 
order — 'Bender  unto  Caesar.'  ' 

' '  Whatever  He  meant  by  human  brotherhood,  Theo, 
He  scarcely  meant  our  modern  cut-throat  relations  of 
capital  and  labor.  And  what  He  meant  does  not  alter 
the  fact  that  we  are  at  present  on  the  eve  of  a  social 
order  founded  upon  what  no  social  system  has  ever 
yet  been  founded  upon — a  real  human  brotherhood — 
not  the  mockery  which  brings  forth  'philanthropy,' 
settlements,  and  other  so-called  charitable  devices.  A 
genuine  human  brotherhood,  my  dear — we  are  not 
going  to  stop  short  of  that!" 

"I  'm  afraid  you  are  an  impracticable  dreamer, 
Judge,"  Barrett  shrugged — while  Theodora,  to  cut 
short  her  brother's  persistence  in  discussing  what  she 
disapproved,  rose  from  her  chair. 

"Come,"  she  said  to  Barrett,  "let  me  play  some 
Beethoven  for  you." 

162 


Theodora  Jordan 

He  acquiesced  eagerly.  "Ah,  if  you  will  be  so 
good !  I  Ve  been  haunted,  ever  since  I  last  heard  you 
play,  by  your — may  I  say  unique? — interpretation. 
It  seems  to  me  you  opened  my  mind  to  new  beauties  in 
Beethoven's  music!" 

Theodora  glowed  with  pleasure.  This,  the  sort  of 
tribute  she  loved,  coming  from  a  source  so  worth  while, 
made  her  turn  to  her  host  with  a  sudden  impulse  and 
hold  out  her  hand. 

* '  I  must  clasp  hands  with  you ! ' '  she  smiled.  ' '  Any 
one  who  feels  Beethoven  just  as  I  feel  him,  is  my 
comrade!  And  genuine  comradeship,  you  know,  is 
the  rarest  thing  in  life ! ' ' 

It  was  Barrett's  turn,  now,  to  glow  with  pleasure. 
Though  he  had  by  no  means  a  humble  opinion  of  him 
self,  and  had  been  courted  and  flattered  by  women 
sufficiently  to  have  made  a  fool  of  a  stronger  man, 
yet  there  was  that  in  Theodora  Jordan  which  made 
the  gracious  bestowal  of  her  friendship  seem  a  high, 
a  god-like  gift. 

"You  certainly  must  find  'genuine  comradeship' 
precious  rare  in  Middleton,  Miss  Jordan ! ' '  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  remarked,  as  they  strolled  over  to  the  parlor. 
"How  a  girl  like  you  has  endured  it  as  a  home  all 
these  years ! ' ' 

"I  am  very  much  attached  to  it,"  Theodora  said. 
' '  The  dear  people  here  have  been  wonderfully  fond  of 
me,  quite  wonderfully  good  to  me.  And  one  finds 
they  are  such  good  people  when  one  gets  below  their 

163 


Barnabetta 

surface  crudities  and  conies  into  genuine  touch  with 
their  real  selves." 

"A  thing  which,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  said  to  herself, 
"you  'd  be  absolutely  incapable  of  doing,  you  self- 
deceived,  insufferable  little  prig!" 

"No  doubt."  she  answered  aloud,  "they  are  very 
worthy." 

When,  an  hour  later,  Edgar  insisted  upon  walking 
home  with  their  guests,  Mrs.  Winthrop  felt  very  well 
satisfied  that  things  were  destined  to  take  the  course 
she  felt  to  be  so  desirable. 

Barrett,  when  he  had  left  Miss  Jordan  and  her 
brother  at  their  door  and  was  walking  home  under  a 
cold,  starlit  night,  wondered,  for  a  second  time,  why 
he  Had  intuitively  checked  his  desire  to  repeat  to 
Theodora  the  amusing  little  talk  he  had  had  that 
afternoon  with  the  country  maiden.  For  Theodora, 
unlike  Elizabeth,  would  have  understood.  Yes,  surely, 
she  would  have  understood.  What  was  it  about 
"Barnabetta"  that  closed  his  lips  upon  the  story 
which  might  make  him  appear  to  be  laughing  at  her  ? 


164 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BARNABETTA  AT   COLLEGE 

BARRETT  refrained,  in  the  weeks  that  followed, 
as  Barnabetta  sat  before  him.  daily  in  the 
Shakespeare  class,  from  calling  on  her  to  recite,  be 
cause  he  wished  to  shield  her  from  the  amusement 
she  would  be  apt  to  create  by  her  answers.  He  won 
dered  whether  she  really  got  anything  out  of  his  half- 
hour's  exposition  of  the  text  of  Hamlet.  It  was  ob 
vious  that  she  tried  hard  enough  as,  leaning  forward 
in  her  seat  with  wide,  wondering  gaze  never  once  re 
moved  from  him,  she  listened  with  apparently  deep 
interest  to  every  word  he  uttered. 

The  last  fifteen  minutes  of  the  period  was  usually 
given  up  to  a  rapid  fire  of  questioning,  and  Barrett 
often  noticed  how  eager  she  seemed  to  answer,  if  only 
he  would  give  her  the  chance.  But,  curious  as  he  felt 
as  to  what  it  all  might  mean  to  her,  he  held  back 
from  letting  her  expose  herself. 

He  had  a  peculiar  consciousness,  as  day  after  day 
she  ' '  sat  at  his  feet, ' '  that  her  mental  attitude  towards 
him  was  not  that  of  the  other  students.  Her  child 
like  gaze,  so  free  from  self-consciousness  or  awe,  was 
in  marked  contrast  to  that  of  the  conscious  maidens 

165 


Barnabetta 

who  blushed  if  he  looked  at  them,  trembled  if  he  pro 
nounced  their  names,  wept  at  his  occasional  sarcastic 
comments  on  their  recitations,  and  would,  he  knew, 
have  ogled  at  him  had  he  given  them  an  opportunity. 

There  came  a  day,  however,  when  his  kindly  pur 
pose  to  shield  Barnabetta  was  thwarted.  Some  pas 
sages  they  were  reading  in  which  Hamlet  derides  poor 
Ophelia  and  her  love,  and  that  of  all  her  sex,  brought 
from  Barrett  a  question  which  Barnabetta  alone,  of 
all  the  class,  volunteered  to  answer. 

Said  Hamlet:  "You  jig,  you  amble,  and  you  lisp, 
and  nickname  God's  creatures,  and  make  your  wan 
tonness  your  ignorance.  Go  to;  I  'II  no  more  on  't." 

"For  the  power  of  beauty  will  sooner  transform 
honesty  from  what  it  is  to  a  bawd  than  the  force  of 
honesty  can  translate  beauty  into  his  likeness." 

"Hamlet,  it  would  appear,"  said  Barrett,  "did  not 
hold  women,  love,  marriage,  in  very  high  esteem. 
Does  his  indictment  of  your  sex  suggest  to  you  a  cer 
tain  modern  misogynist?" 

There  was  an  instant 's  pause ;  no  hand  was  raised ; 
but  Barnabetta  rose. 

Barrett  winced  visibly;  he  would  have  feigned  not 
to  see  her  if  it  had  been  possible. 

"I  think  you  must  mean  the  writer  named  Bernard 
Shaw,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  showing  the  surprise  he  felt. 
Certainly  he  had  not  expected  Barnabetta  to  be  the 
only  girl  in  her  class  to  answer  a  question  like  that. 

166 


Barnabetta  at  College 

"You  have  read  some  of  Shaw's  writings,  Miss 
Dreary  ? "  he  asked  at  a  risk. 

"I  have  read  a  play  I  found  in  the  library — Man 
and  Superman." 

"And  Mr.  Shaw's  view  of  woman  in  that  play,  Miss 
Dreary — it  suggests  Hamlet's?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but  Hamlet  was  out  of  his  head,  and 
this  Jack  Tanner  in  Bernard  Shaw's  play  wasn't. 
What  Jack  Tanner  says  about  women,"  Barnabetta 
serenely  affirmed,  "is  not  true." 

A  smile  went  over  the  class  and  every  eye  was  fixed 
upon  the  speaker. 

"You  are  quite  sure?"  questioned  Barrett. 

"Yes,  sir.    It  is  not  true." 

' '  Can  you  prove  that  ? ' ' 

' '  It  stands  to  reason — girls  don 't  force  men  to  marry 
them — it  is  the  other  way.  A  man  seeks  marriage  be 
cause  it  gives  him  all  his  comforts,  but  it  is  not  natural 
that  a  woman  would  seek  what  gives  her  only  de 
spair.  ' ' 

The  smile  of  the  class  broadened  and  threatened  to 
become  an  audible  ripple,  but  a  flash  from  Dr.  Bar 
rett's  eyes  smothered  it  at  its  birth. 

"But,  Miss  Dreary,"  he  spoke  upon  a  profound 
silence,  "if  marriage  offers  no  advantages  to  a 
woman,  why,  in  the  name  of  the  gods,  do  women 
marry  ? ' ' 

"The  men  coax  them.  They  haven't  the  will  to 
resist  if  coaxed  overmuch." 

167 


Barnabetta 

This  was  too  much  even  for  Barrett's  gravity  and 
his  own  smile  was  the  signal  for  a  general  laugh. 

Barnabetta,  as  she  sat  down,  looked  surprised  and 
puzzled,  but  not  at  all  embarrassed. 

"Your  point  of  view,  Miss  Dreary,"  said  Dr.  Bar 
rett,  speaking  in  a  more  kindly  tone  than  any  student 
in  his  presence  had  ever  before  heard  from  him,  "is 
hardly  the  generally  accepted  one  in  our  day. ' ' 

He  turned  and  addressed  the  class  abruptly: 
"Finish,  by  to-morrow,  Act  Third  and  read  also  Act 
Fourth.  Dismissed,"  he  nodded. 

As  Barnabetta  walked  in  line  past  his  desk,  he  noted 
the  fact  that  though  the  weeks  at  Stevens  were  giving 
her  a  modified  accent,  a  better  command  of  English, 
and  a  bit  of  literary  knowledge,  she  still  looked  odd 
among  her  college-mates  by  reason  of  her  countrified 
clothing,  her  heavy,  audible  shoes,  the  unfashionable 
way  she  piled  her  abundant,  beautiful  hair  about  her 
head.  He  wondered  what  the  attitude  of  the  other 
students  was  to  her.  Though  she  did  not  seem  to  be 
intimate  with  any  one,  he  saw  with  a  peculiar  sense 
of  relief  that  she  did  not  wear  the  look  of  loneliness, 
of  nostalgia,  so  often  detected  in  the  face  of  a  Fresh 
man.  But  that  so  unsophisticated,  so  "green"  a  girl 
should  escape  being  "guyed"  seemed  to  him  unlikely. 

It  was  on  the  next  day  that  he  learned  how  things 
really  stood  with  her  in  this  respect.  He  was  alone 
in  his  inner  office,  working  on  a  pile  of  students'  pa 
pers,  when  his  secretary  knocked  and  entered. 

168 


Barnabetta  at  College 

"Miss  Dreary  is  at  the  door,  Dr.  Barrett.  She 
says  you  sent  for  her." 

"A  mistake.     I  did  not." 

The  secretary  bowed  and  started  to  go  away.  But 
he  stopped  her.  "Beg  pardon — she  says  I  sent  for 
her?" 

"Yes,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"Well,  I  didn't;  but — let  her  come  in,  please." 

A  moment  later  Barnabetta  walked  with  heavy 
tread  into  the  office.  Barrett  rose  and  placed  a  chair 
for  her.  She  sat  down  and  he,  reseating  himself  be 
fore  her,  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  But  she  met  his 
look  with  a  serene  though  puzzled  expectancy  and 
waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"You  wanted  to  see  me,  Miss  Dreary?" 

"Well,  if  I  must." 

"If  you  must?" 

"When  you  send  for  me,  I  must  come." 

"Who  told  you  I  sent  for  you?" 

"The  girls  in  the  dormitory  brought  me  your  mes 
sage.  ' ' 

"Ah?    What  was  the  message?" 

"They  said  I  must  come  right  down  to  your  office 
because  you — they  said  you  had  found  me  out  and 
were  angry  that  I  kept  gambling  cards  and  cigarettes, 
yet,  concealed  under  -my  mattress — and  that  I  used 
such  rouge  on  my  face  and — and  laced!  But,  Dr. 
Barrett,  it  is  false — I  have  nothing  hid  under  my  mat 
tress  and  my  cheeks  are  natural.  I  tell  you  the  truth. 

169 


Barnabetta 

And,  Dr.  Barrett,"  she  gravely  reproved  him,  "I  won- 
der  at  you  to  say  such  things  about  me ! " 

Dr.  Barrett  stared — she  was  censuring  him  for 
slandering  her!  Not  for  the  world  must  he  let  her 
discover  that  the  girls  had  been  poking  fun  at  her, 
the  vulgar  little  fools ! 

"The  young  ladies  made  a  mistake,"  he  said.  "It 
was  not  you — another  young  lady — who  has  been 
guilty  of — those  items  you  mentioned.  The  matron 
will  attend  to  her." 

"Well,"  she  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  "I  'm 
glad  you  know  it  's  not  me — I. ' ' 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  gazing  up  at  him  with 
a  soft,  bright  happiness  in  her  face  that  held  him 
fascinated. 

"I  did  now  wonder  at  you  that  you  could  think 
such  things  about  me." 

' '  No,  I  could  n  't  possibly  be  so  stupid,  Miss  Dreary, 
as  to  think  such  things  of  you. ' ' 

"That  's  what  I  thought — it  seemed  as  if  you 
could  n 't  be  that  dumm ! ' ' 

"Yet  you  did  believe  the  girls?  I  should  think," 
he  hastily  added,  "you  would  have  known  there  must 
be  a  mistake. ' ' 

"I  can't  think  how  the  girls  came  by  such  a  mis 
take.  They  will  be  glad  to  know  it  was  a  mistake. 
They  were  sorry  for  me.  They  thought  you  would 
be  very  severe.  They  even  said  maybe  you  'd  expel 
me!" 

170 


Barnabetta  at  College 

"Ah?  And  you — weren't  you  afraid  of  my  possi 
ble  severity?" 

"Not  afraid.  I  only  felt  disappointed  to  think 
that  a  man  with  so  much  in  his  brain  to  ponder  as  you 
have,  could  bother  himself  with  such  trifles." 

"You  were,  then,  'disappointed'  in  me?"  he  in 
quired  quite  gravely. 

"But  I  was  in  fault  to  feel  so,"  she  said  humbly. 
"A  person  ought  always  to  know  her  friends  too  well 
to  misjudge  them  like  that.  I  won't  ever  again  think 
anything  so  mean  of  you,  Dr.  Barrett, ' '  she  reassured 
him. 

"Thank  you." 

"You  're  welcome." 

They  regarded  each  other  for  a  moment  compla 
cently. 

' '  I  guess  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  we  were  all  like 
Job, ' '  she  remarked. 

"Job?     One  of  your  Reinhartz  friends?" 

"I  mean  Job  of  the  Scriptures." 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  short  laugh  at  such 
familiar  conversational  handling  of  the  patriarch. 
"Yes?  How?" 

"Well,  Job  knew  in  his  heart  that  God  was  good 
and  nothing  that  happened  to  him,  nothing,  could 
shake  his  belief  in  that.  Unless  we  can  believe  like 
that  in  our  friends,  against  all  appearances,  I  guess 
we  are  n  't  worthy  a  real  friend. ' ' 

"But  what  do  you  understand  by  'a  real  friend'?" 
171 


Barnabetta 

' '  One  that  I  feel  towards  like  I  feel  towards  Mama 
and  like  I  feel  towards  you.  Mama  and  you  are  the 
only  friends  I  ever  had — except  Abel  Buchter — but  to 
him  I  have  only  given  gratefulness,  not  friendship." 

"And  how,"  he  could  not  resist  asking  her,  "do 
you  feel  towards  me?" 

''Just  the  way  I  feel  towards  Mama,  Dr.  Barrett, 
only  not  quite  so  intimate  and  near." 

"How  about  your  other  instructors — you  bestow 
your  friendship  upon  them  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  no." 

"I  am  honored.  But  I  am  curious  to  know  why 
you  single  me  out?" 

"You  are  different." 

"Ah?     Thank  you." 

"You  're  welcome." 

Again  they  regarded  each  other  in  silence  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"It  seems,"  Barnabetta  presently  remarked 
thoughtfully,  "as  if  every  Shakespeare  lesson  I  have 
with  you,  makes  me  feel  more  acquainted  with  you. 
I  like  your  thoughts  so  well.  And  your  nice  ways. 
Before  I  came  here,  I  did  not  know  there  were  any 
men  like  you  in  the  world ! ' ' 

"Ah,  my  dear  child,  there  are  many  better  ones!" 
He  rose  abruptly,  feeling  reluctantly  the  impropriety 
of  prolonging  this  tete-a-tete.  There  was  always  his 
secretary  in  the  outer  office. 

Barnabetta,  also  rising,  dropped  her  handkerchief 
172 


Barnabetta  at  College 

and  instantly  Barrett  stepped  out  from  his  desk  to 
pick  it  up  for  her.  The  look  of  adoring  admiration 
with  which  she  received  this  bit  of  gallantry,  so  new 
in  her  experience  of  men,  made  the  college  president 
feel,  before  her  guileless  candor,  a  self-consciousness 
of  which  the  country  maiden  herself  was  wholly  free. 
He  wondered  long  that  afternoon,  after  she  had 
gone,  what  it  was  in  Barnabetta  that  affected  him  in 
just  the  peculiar,  penetrating  way  her  personality 
did  affect  him.  It  was  some  elusive  quality  in  her 
that  he  could  not  quite  lay  hold  of  or  define.  But  the 
quest  of  it  charmed  him,  fired  his  imagination,  lent  a 
zest  to  the  dull  routine  of  teaching  intellectual  fledge 
lings. 


173 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BARNABETTA   IS   CALLED   TO  ACCOUNT 

IT  was  only  a  week  later  that  Barnabetta  did  ac 
tually  commit  a  misdemeanor  of  such  seriousness 
that  it  was  reported  to  the  President  for  discipline. 
She  was  discovered  to  have  gone,  without  permission, 
alone  and  unchaperoned,  into  the  town.  Being  a  pre 
paratory  student,  this  offense  made  her  amenable  to 
suspension  or  expulsion — at  the  discretion  of  the  Presi 
dent. 

To  soften  the  austerity  of  his  necessary  interview 
with  the  delinquent,  the  President  did  not  formally 
summon  her  fo  his  office,  but  postponed  the  ordeal 
until  she  should  be  obliged  on  the  following  afternoon 
to  meet  an  appointment  at  his  office  for  a  personal 
criticism  of  her  Hamlet  paper;  for  the  Shakespeare 
class  having  finished  their  study  of  the  play,  every 
student  had  been  required  to  write  a  synopsis  of  the 
plot  with  a  statement  as  to  what  she  individually  had 
got  from  her  six  weeks'  study;  also,  to  undergo  a 
private  criticism  of  her  paper,  in  the  President's 
office — a  test  which  some  of  them  met  with  tears,  some 
with  hysterics,  but  nearly  all  with  pleasurable,  excit 
ing  dread. 

Barrett  wondered,  as  just  before  the  hour  appointed 
174 


Barnabetta  Is  Called  to  Account 

for  Barnabetta  to  come  for  her  Hamlet  interview,  he 
sat  reading  her  extraordinary  paper,  how  she  would 
meet  her  intellectual  vivisection  at  his  hands — with 
the  additional  ordeal  before  her  of  being  called  to  ac 
count  for  her  high  crime  and  misdemeanor  in  running 
away  to  town  without  permission. 

The  reading  of  students'  papers  was,  of  course, 
a  deadly  bore.  But  Barrett  found  himself  surpris 
ingly  entertained  by  the  rather  awful  sincerity  of 
Barnabetta 's  unique  "statement"  as  to  what  her 
study  of  Hamlet  had  yielded  her — annexed  to  her  out 
line  of  the  play. 

"I  think  I  get  more  education  out  of  one  play  of 
Shakespeare's,"  she  wrote,  "than  out  of  all  else  I 
study  at  Stevens  College.  Anyway,  I  find  my  mind 
more  awakened  by  this  branch  than  by  any  others. 
The  wonderful  thoughts  this  great  poet  had,  rouse 
thoughts  in  me  such  as  I  never  had  before.  That  isi 
because  you,  our  Teacher,  make  it  so  clear  to  us  what 
deep  meaning  lies  in  the  strange,  great  words.  I  al 
ways  feel  excited  in  Shakespeare  class.  It  stirs  my 
feelings  as  well  as  my  mind.  It  makes  me  long  to  be 
a  poet  also,  to  pour  out  my  feelings  in  beautiful 
words.  It  makes  me  long  for  things  I  never  thought 
of  before.  I  seem  to  understand,  now,  what  could  be 
meant  by  the  Golden  Text,  'Ye  must  be  born  again.' 
I  feel,  since  I  came  here,  as  if  I  were  being  made  all 
over  into  another  creature. 

175 


Barnabetta 

"I  will  write  one  more  thought  before  I  stop.  I 
think  Hamlet  must  have  looked  like  you,  Dr.  Barrett. 
"When  I  think  of  him,  his  face  always  has  features  like 
yours.  He  was  learned  like  you,  he  had  deep  thoughts 
like  you  have,  and  he  had  fine  feelings  the  kind  you 
have.  I  understand  the  play  better  because  I  know 
you  so  well.  Until  I  knew  you,  I  did  not  know  that 
any  living,  real  man  had  such  fineness. 

"BARNABETTA  DREARY." 

He  scorned  himself  for  the  little  thrill  of  pleasure— 
actually  of  gratified  vanity — he  felt  at  the  flattering 
parallel  she  drew! 

When  presently  she  came  to  the  office,  he  saw  at 
once  as  she  sat  down  at  his  side  before  her  manuscript 
spread  out  on  his  desk,  that  she  looked  pale.  But  her 
manner  was  very  quiet. 

Perfunctorily  he  went  over  her  paper  with  her; 
several  points  that  she  had  made  in  her  outline  of  the 
plot  he  especially  commended — they  were  points  that 
had  escaped  the  notice  of  every  other  student  in  the 
class. 

He  noticed  a  peculiar  thing  as  they  talked — she 
persistently  kept  her  hands  in  her  lap  as  though  try 
ing  to  conceal  them — those  hands  which,  in  their  free 
dom  from  household  toil,  were  growing,  he  had  re 
cently  observed,  white  and  smooth  and  shapely.  Just 
once  in  the  interest  of  their  interview  she  forgot  her 
self  and  lifting  one  hand,  rested  it  on  her  paper  as 

176 


Barnabetta  Is  Called  to  Account 

she  spoke  to  him — and  he  saw  immediately  that  it  had 
been  professionally  manicured — the  pointed,  shining 
pink  nails  looking  odd  enough  in  contrast  to  what 
they  had  been  a  few  weeks  ago.  But  in  a  moment, 
seeming  to  recollect  herself,  she  hastily  hid  the  hand 
again  in  her  lap. 

Presently,  their  discussion  of  the  paper  concluded, 
he  folded  it,  pushed  it  aside,  and  turned  sidewise  in 
his  chair  to  face  her. 

She  leaned  back  in  her  own  chair  and  looked  at  him 
pensively,  her  hands  clasped  behind  her.  Then  sud 
denly,  as  though  determined  to  conquer  her  cowardice 
or  embarrassment  or  whatever  it  was  that  had 
prompted  concealment  of  her  hands,  she  resolutely 
brought  them  forward  and  spread  them  conspicuously 
in  her  lap. 

Barrett  bit  his  lip,  cleared  his  throat  and  spoke  to 
her. 

"It  is  my  unpleasant  duty,"  he  began  resolutely, 
"to  reprove  your  violation  of  rule  yesterday  in  going 
to  town." 

She  gazed  at  him,  but  volunteered  no  reply. 

"I  understand  that  you  do  not  plead  ignorance  of 
the  rule  as  an  excuse?" 

"No,  I  knew  the  rule,"  she  admitted  in  a  low  voice. 

"What,  then,  is  your  excuse?" 

"I  haven't  any." 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me  what  you  went  to  town 
/«•**.' 

177 


Barnabetta 

She  colored  and  her  eyes  fell.     "I  'm  ashamed  to." 

"Was  your  errand  so  urgent  as  to  make  you  feel 
justified  in  violating  the  rule  of  the  college?" 

"I  didn't  mind  that — 'violating  the  rule  of  the 
college' — because  I  didn't  think  anybody  would  find 
it  out." 

"But  how  about  your  sense  of  loyalty  to  your  col 
lege,  your  sense  of  honor  in  keeping  its  rules  ? ' ' 

She  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  ' '  I  have  n  't  any, ' ' 
she  said,  shaking  her  head. 

""No  sense  of  honor  or  loyalty?" 

"Not  about  any  rules.     They  are — trivial." 

"But  very  necessary.  You  are  under  our  care. 
We  cannot  expose  you,  or  let  you  expose  yourself,  to 
harm." 

"What  harm?"  she  asked,  puzzled. 

"You  are  away  from  your  parents — we  are  respon 
sible  for  you — we  must  know  at  all  times  where  you 
are,"  he  patiently  explained.  "You  make  it  difficult 
for  us,  if  you  deliberately  evade  the  rules  devised  for 
your  protection." 

"But  I  can't  see  what  harm  could  happen  to  any 
one  in  daylight  in  Middleton." 

The  argument  was  unanswerable;  there  was  proba 
bly  no  spot  in  the  little  town  less  safe  than  the  shelter 
of  the  college  itself. 

""Well,  then,"  said  Barrett,  crossing  his  legs  with 
an  air  of  decision, ' '  if  neither  loyalty  nor  honor  moves 
you  to  keep  the  rule,  I  ask  you  as  a  personal  favor 

178 


Barnabetta  Is  Called  to  Account 

to  me  not  to  disobey  it  again — or  you  will  put  me 
to  the  painful  necessity  of  executing  the  penalty  of 
the  law,  suspension  or  expulsion.  You  knew  the  pen 
alty  when  you  went  to  town?" 

"Yes,  I  knew  it;  but  I  didn't  think  I  would  be 
seen  or  I  wouldn't  have  risked  it." 

"You  won't  risk  it  again?" 

"No,  indeed — for  Mama's  sake;  she  would  be  so 
disappointed ;  I  am  sure  she  is  giving  up  a  great  deal 
to  let  me  have  this  education." 

"And,"  he  inquired  hesitatingly,  "for  my  sake?" 

' '  For  your  sake  ? ' '  she  repeated,  puzzled. 

"To  spare  me  the  pain  of  suspending  you,"  he  said 
curtly. 

"You  did  not  make  the  foolish  rule,  so  I  don't  see 
why  you  would  take  it  to  heart. ' ' 

"You  don't  see  why  I  should  feel  sorry  to  have 
to  send  you  home  when  you  are  doing  so  well 
here?" 

"Of  course,"  she  assured  him,  "I  know  how  kind- 
hearted  you  are.  But  if  I  did  have  to  leave  here,  I 
think  you  would  soon  forget  me,  Dr.  Barrett.  There 
are  so  many  others  here." 

"I  thought,"  he  found  himself  saying,  to  his  own 
infinite  surprise,  "that  you  considered  me  your — 
friend. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  do,  but  I  wouldn't  expect  you  to  think  as 
much  of  me  as  I  do  of  you.  To  be  sure  I  guess  you 
would  feel  some  bad  to  see  me  go.  But  you  don 't  need 

179 


Barnabetta 

to  worry,  Dr.  Barrett — I  won't  break  the  rule  again, 
indeed  I  won't." 

"Your  errand  to  town  must  have  been  very  urgent 
indeed  to  make  you  run  such  a  risk  of  grieving  your 
mother." 

"No,"  she  said,  her  delicate  face  flushing,  "it 
was  n  't — urgent. ' ' 

"Not  urgent?" 

"No — it  was  just  something  I  had  set  my  heart  on 
doing. ' ' 

"Something  wrong — that  you  did  not  get  permis 
sion  to  go  to  town  with  a  chaperon?" 

"No,  it  wasn't  wrong.  But — I  didn't  want  any 
one  to  know.  Because, ' '  she  said,  her  voice  very  low, 
"it  was  a  vanity.  Please,"  she  pleaded,  "I  'd  rather 
not  tell.  If  you  won't  make  me  tell,  I  pass  you  my 
promise  I  won't  do  it  again." 

"For  your  mother's  sake,"  he  repeated.  "But 
you  have  a  father  too?"  he  curiously  inquired. 

"But  he  would  be  glad  if  I  did  have  to  come 
home,  because  he  don't  favor  education  for  females — 
for  all  he  married  Mama  and  she  has  a  good  edu 
cation." 

"Why,  then,  does  he  send  you  to  college?" 

"He  don't.  Mama  sends  me  against  his  will. 
Mama  is  rich." 

"Ah?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you  did  not  mean — when  you  spoke  of  the 
180 


Barnabetta  Is  Called  to  Account 

sacrifices  she  makes  to  send  you  here — material  sac 
rifices?     You  referred  to — your  father's  opposition?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  Mama  minds  my  father's  op 
position  very  much.  You  see,  being  so  rich,  she  can 
just  take  her  own  way  and  he  can't  help  himself.  I 
meant  'material  sacrifices.'  It  costs  so  much  to  go 
to  college." 

"But  if  she  is  so  rich?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she  has  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  all 
her  own,"  Barnabetta  announced  breathlessly.  "But 
she  spends  such'  a  big  part  of  it  on  me.  And  before 
she  married  father,  she  had  all  that  for  herself 
alone!" 

"But  what  better  could  she  do  with  it  than  spend 
it  on  her  daughter?" 

' '  That  's  what  she  says, ' '  Barnabetta  answered,  her 
eyes  softly  shining  writh  the  light  that  always  came 
into  them  at  mention  of  her  stepmother. 

"You  are  her  only  child?" 

"I  have  two  older  brothers." 

"They  are  not  sent  to  college?" 

"Oh,  no,  they  do  not  favor  education." 

The  situation  seemed  to  him  very  peculiar.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  that  it  could  be  a  stepmother 
of  whom  she  spoke  with  such  devoted  affection. 

There  was  a  step  in  the  outer  office  and  Barrett, 
glancing  at  his  watch,  saw  that  the  next  Hamlet  stu 
dent  was  due. 

Barnabetta  rose  and  picked  up  her  paper,   but 
181 


Barnabetta 

Barrett  checked  her,  as  he  also  stood.  "I  '11  keep 
the  paper,  if  you  please." 

She  gave  it  up,  but  looked  surprised.  ' '  The  others 
got  theirs  back,"  she  said  inquiringly. 

"Yes.  You  forfeit  yours.  Your  penalty,"  he 
said  gravely,  "for  running  away.  I  '11  keep  this" — 
he  thrust  it  into  his  breast-pocket — "as  a  guarantee 
that  you  '11  never  do  so  again,  eh?" 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully.  She  did  not  under 
stand  playfulness  and  Barrett's  face  wore  a  Hamlet- 
like  gravity. 

"All  right,"  she  acquiesced,  her  highly  manicured 
hand  on  the  back  of  her  chair.  "Good-by." 

"Good-by."  He  suddenly  held  out  his  hand  to 
her. 

The  brightness  of  her  eyes  as  she  looked  up  at 
him  while  she  laid  her  hand  in  his,  was  like  the  look 
with  which  she  always  spoke  of  her  mother. 

He  did  not  know,  however,  that  her  love  for  that 
"mother"  was  the  first  great  romance  of  her  girl 
hood. 

She  went  away;  and  the  secretary  at  once  an 
nounced  that  Miss  Boyer,  the  next  student  due,  had 
sent  word  that  she  was  laid  up  with  a  headache  and 
could  not  come. 

Barrett  was  glad  of  it.  The  headache  was  of  course 
a  ruse  to  get  out  of  her  interview  with  him — she  was 
a  poor,  stupid  thing.  He  was  glad  of  this  momentary 
respite  in  which  to  revel  in  his  novel  sense  of  enjoy- 

182 


Barnabetta  Is  Called  to  Account 

merit — the  enjoyment  of  realizing  Barnabetta 's  per 
fectly  transparent  evasions.  Her  errand  to  town  had 
of  course  been  to  a  manicure  establishment.  She  was 
ashamed  of  the  "vanity"  which  had  led  her  to  pre 
pare  thus  for  the  interview  she  was  to  have  in  such 
close  proximity  to  himself;  but  she  had  evidently  de 
cided,  on  second  thoughts,  that  having  squandered 
time  and  money  and  run  the  risk  of  suspension,  it 
must  not  be  for  naught — and  so  had  brought  forth 
her  nice-looking  hands  and  shamelessly  displayed 
them ! 

He  was  glad  he  had  kept  her  "essay"  on  Hamlet, 
for,  recalling  with  pleasure  that  that  evening  he  and 
his  sister  were  to  dine  with  the  Jordans,  he  deter 
mined  to  read  the  child's  quaint  paper  to  Theodora. 
She  would  enjoy  it;  she  would  appreciate  the  subtle 
quality  of  genuineness  that  gave  such  a  unique  charm 
to  everything  the  girl  did  and  said.  Yes,  Theodora, 
he  was  sure,  would  quite  understand  and  share  his 
own  feeling  about  Barnabetta. 


183 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   LUKE  OP   THEODORA 

BUT  in  the  first  place  the  evening  at  the  Jordans' 
afforded  no  opportunity  for  so  intimate  a  con 
fidence  with  Theodora  as  the  bringing  forth  from  his 
pocket  of  Barnabetta's  paper;  for  though  he  found 
himself  alone  with  his  hostess  several  times — once  in 
the  music-room  while  Mrs.  "Winthrop  detained  Judge 
Jordan  in  the  library  over  the  discussion  of  a  mag 
azine  article;  and  again  just  before  leaving  as  they 
waited  in  the  hall  while  Elizabeth  went  up-stairs  to 

14 

get  on  her  wraps — yet  neither  of  these  occasions 
seemed  propitious,  he  and  Miss  Jordan  being  too 
deeply  involved,  at  the  time,  in  most  serious  discourse. 

In  the  second  place,  Theodora's  highly  rarefied  at 
mosphere  and  the  extremely  cultivated  background  of 
her  beautiful  home  seemed  to  remove  to  a  far  per 
spective  the  atmosphere  and  image  of  Barnabetta, 
making  any  mention  of  her  seem  like  an  unseemly  ob 
trusion,  almost  an  incongruity.  Barnabetta  stood  to 
him  for  a  sublime  simplicity ;  Theodora  for  a  fascinat 
ingly  exalted  complexity. 

"Do  you  know,"  Miss  Jordan  confided  to  him  as, 
before  his  departure,  they  stood  together  in  the  wide 
hall,  he  in  his  great  coat,  holding  his  hat  and  gloves ; 

184 


The  Lure  of  Theodora 

and  she,  slim  and  dainty  in  a  violet-tinted  dinner- 
gown  of  some  gauzy  fabric,  "I  am  getting  quite  to 
depend  on  these  occasional  fruitful  moments  alone 
with  you — they  are  a  stimulus  to  me !  You  give  me 
something — something  I  do  not  get  from  any  other 
source — something  I  am  always  hungry  for !  What  is 
it?  Is  it  just — yourself — that  speaks  to  my  true  self 
vitally?" 

' '  I  should  be  glad  to  think  so ! " 

"A  feeling  like  that,"  she  said  dreamily,  "must  be 
mutual,  I  think." 

"It  is  your  music,"  he  smiled,  "that  discovers  the 
vital  spot  in  me  and  establishes  the  current  between 
us." 

"And  on  that  current  there  comes  back  to  me  from 
you  as  real  an  uplift  as  my  music  seems  to  yield  to 
you!" 

He  took  it  seriously — she  was  a  woman  of  great 
beauty  and  charm. 

"That  is  because,"  he  replied,  "you  galvanize  into 
life  the  dormant  best  in  me!" 

"The  best  in  us,"  she  sighed,  "does  have  so  little 
stimulus  from  the  day's  ordinary  routine,  doesn't 
it?  Life's  machinery  seems  striving  always  to  crush 
the  spiritual  in  us.  But,"  she  added  with  a  sudden 
glow  that  made  her  very  lovely,  "unless  the  ideal,  the 
spiritual  side  of  us,  does  find  expression — full  and 
adequate  expression — of  what  worth  is  anything?" 

"One  must  be  actually  great  of  soul  in  these  mod- 
185 


Barnabetta 

ern  days,"  he  said  gravely,  "to  escape  the  fearful 
stress  of  materialism." 

"Materialism  which  means  death,"  she  agreed. 
"Then  how  we  must  rejoice  to  discover  one  who  not 
only  helps  us  to  escape  the  wretched  bondage,  but 
whom  we  also  help  to  a  higher  plane ! ' ' 

It  was  a  crucial  moment — but  the  sound  of  Mrs. 
"Winthrop's  step  on  the  stairs  checked  the  reply  Bar 
rett  might  have  felt  called  upon  to  make — or  rather 
checked  its  mere  verbal  expression,  for  Theodora,  her 
eloquent,  soft  eyes  raised  to  his,  held  out  her  hand 
to  him  and  he  clasped  it  as  he  held  also  her  upward, 
speaking  gaze,  for  a  moment  full  of  significance  to 
them  both ;  a  moment  that  throbbed  with  their  grow 
ing  sense  of  spiritual  kinship — though  there  did  ob 
trude  upon  Barrett's  consciousness  the  slightly  dis 
tracting  recollection  of  the  more  substantial,  but  not 
less  soft,  feel  of  Barnabetta 's  manicured  hand  which 
he  had  held  for  a  moment  that  afternoon — the  com 
mon  clay  of  the  people!  Theodora  was  a  patrician 
to  her  finger  tips  and  he  delighted  in  it. 

He  did  not  pause  to  ask  himself  whether,  had  she 
physically  resembled  her  mother's  people,  this  vital 
current  of  spiritual  oneness  between  them  would  ever 
have  been  established. 

"It  is  restful,  isn't  it,  Edgar,"  his  sister  remarked 
as  they  walked  home  through  the  quiet  streets  in  the 
cold  moonlight,  "to  go  into  a  home  like  that,  where 
one's  taste  isn't  rasped  in  any  way!" 

186 


The  Lure  of  Theodora 

"Far  from  being  'rasped,'  it  is  so  satisfyingly  grat 
ified,"  was  his  reply.  "Odd,  isn't  it,  to  find  in  a 
society  like  this  of  Middleton,  composed  of  the  insuf 
ferably  uninteresting  middle  class,  a  home  like  the 
Jordans '  in  which  there  is  manifested  on  all  sides  such 
extreme  refinement  of  taste.  Theodora's  sense  of  fit 
ness  amounts  to  genius.  The  beauty  of  their  house 
is  only  another  expression  of  the  music  in  her ! ' ' 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  responded  heartily,  if  non- 
committally. 

She  was  relieved  to  find  that  he  had  not  noticed  a 
certain  phase  of  their  evening  which  scarcely  could 
be  called  an  expression  of  Theodora's  innate  harmony. 
The  maiden's  attitude  towards  her  devoted  brother, 
though  veiled  always  by  her  refined  gentleness  of 
manner  and  the  musical  softness  of  her  voice,  was, 
Mrs.  Winthrop  felt,  very  cold-blooded.  Jordan  did 
so  adore  the  girl,  and  she  did  so  subtly  snub  and 
dominate  him !  For  instance,  in  the  matter  of  Judge 
Jordan's  evident  admiration  of  Mrs.  Winthrop  her 
self — handsome  widow  that  she  knew  herself  to  be 
— how  cleverly  Theodora  constantly  prevented  a  tete- 
a-tete  between  them,  managing  always  when  she  got 
herself  off  alone  with  Edgar,  to  summon  David  from 
the  widow's  side  and  send  him  on  some  behest!  Mrs. 
Winthrop  recognized  the  girl's  ever-present  fear  of 
David's  marrying — another  phase  of  her  inordinate 
selfishness. 

"Rich  as  Jordan  is,  she  doesn't  want  to  share  her 
187 


Barnabetta 

inheritance.  Nor  would  she  let  his  happiness  weigh 
an  iota  against  her  own  greed  to  keep  not  only  all 
his  wealth,  but  all  his  devotion  and  homage — which  is 
nectar  and  ambrosia  to  her,  in  spite  of  the  way  she 
constantly  snubs  it!" 

Mrs.  Winthrop  had  been  secretly  amused  at  the 
harangue  given  her  by  Theodora  with,  she  was  sure, 
deep  design  to  warn  her  off  from  any  hopes  of  win 
ning  the  Judge. 

' '  Women  have  always  thrown  themselves  at  David, ' ' 
the  girl  had  informed  her  with  a  shrug.  "Isn't  it 
amazing  how  indelicate  our  sex  can  be?  David  has 
never  had  the  faintest  inclination  to  marry — he  is  so 
devoted  to  me — and  I  have  so  filled  his  life.  He 
would  not  dream  of  marrying." 

Mrs.  Winthrop  was  sure  that  Theodora  persuaded 
herself,  with  that  positive  genius  she  had  for  giving  a 
noble  interpretation  to  her  selfish  motives,  that  her 
reason  for  "shielding"  her  brother  from  matrimony 
was  to  insure  his  welfare  and  happiness. 

She  was  thankful  indeed  that  Edgar  did  not  see 
the  maiden  as  she  saw  her.  For  though  Edgar's 
habitual  manner,  distant  and  faintly  contemptuous  of 
the  vulgarity  of  things  in  general,  would  have  led 
observers  to  consider  him  rather  a  heartless  man,  she 
knew  his  deep,  strong  feeling  for  his  own;  and  she 
felt  his  capacity  for  a  great  and  passionate  devotion. 
But  Theodora,  she  suspected,  had  no  heart.  She  loved 
herself  supremely ;  believed  in  herself ;  deified  herself. 

188 


The  Lure  of  Theodora 

These  characteristics,  however,  did  not,  in  Mrs.  Win- 
throp's  mind,  weigh  against  the  advantages  of  the 
girl's  blood  and  the  position  of  her  aunts  and  herself 
in  Boston — not  to  speak  of  the  minor  but  not  wholly 
insignificant  advantage  of  her  brother's  great  wealth 
and  influence. 

"Do  you  notice,"  Edgar  remarked  to  his  sister  on 
their  homeward  walk,  "how  tactfully  Theodora  keeps 
down  the  Judge  when  he  would  bore  us  with  his 
fanatical  theories?  She  does  manage  him  admirably, 
doesn't  she?" 

"Admirably." 

"It  's  only  consideration  for  her  that  keeps  me  from 
making  short  work  of  him  and  his  ridiculous  ideas! 
She  is  no  more  in  sympathy  with  his  pernicious  doc 
trines  than  I  am.  I  think  she  is  remarkably  patient 
with  him!" 

"Of  course  his  ideas  are  ridiculous,"  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  granted.  "But  I  suspect,  Edgar,  that  some  of 
them,  pernicious  though  they  be,  have  taken  such  root 
in  the  modern  mind  that  they  are  here  to  stay.  As 
for  instance,  what  he  said  about  the  forces  that  are 
making  for  universal  democracy  being  too  persistent, 
too  inevitable,  to  be  put  down.  He  seemed  to  prove 
it  too,  with  his  illustrative  examples — the  recent  cre 
ation  of  parliaments  in  countries  that  have  been  abso 
lute  monarchies — Turkey,  Persia,  Russia,  China, 
Mexico,  Portugal.  What  scares  me  is  his  seeming  to 
prove  with  such  alarming  clearness,  Edgar,  that  this 

189 


Barnabetta 

world-wi'de  wave  is,  in  our  western  countries,  taking 
the  form  of  Socialism!  He  almost  persuaded  me! 
Life  would  be  horrible  if  such  a  thing  as  Socialism 
did  come  to  be." 

"I  thought  Theodora  answered  him  effectually. 
Don't  you  remember  she  told  him  he  was  behind  the 
times,  that  really  the  tide  was  flowing  the  other  way, 
that  the  rule  of  the  people  was  proving  a  failure  in 
our  country  where  the  Big  Interests  and  the  able 
financiers  who  control  them  are  too  much  for  the 
feebleness  and  stupidity  of  the  masses?  She  is  right 
— it  has  always  been  so  and  it  always  will  be  so — the 
stupid  inefficient  masses  will  be  ruled  by  the  strong, 
the  efficient.  'The  survival  of  the  fit,'  you  know. 
You  remember  he  had  no  answer  for  Theodora. ' ' 

"He  never  argues  with  her.  He  would  have  had 
his  answer  for  you,  I  fancy ! ' ' 

"Well,"  affirmed  Barrett  conclusively,  "I  was 
precious  glad  to  have  Theodora  cut  in  and  stop  him. ' ' 

It  was  at  this  point  in  their  talk  that  they  reached 
their  own  house  on  the  snow-covered  campus  and 
Barrett,  having  opened  the  door  and  stepped  back  to 
let  his  sister  enter,  turned  for  a  lingering  look  at 
the  beautiful  night,  the  moonlight  on  the  white  ex 
panse  about  him,  the  bare,  motionless  trees  so  spectral 
in  their  winter's  sleep;  and  suddenly,  as  he  stood 
gazing,  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  dark  figure  moving 
along  the  outer  edge  of  the  field  of  white,  the  figure 
of  a  woman  or  a  girl ;  the  next  instant  he  recognized, 

190 


The  Lure  of  Theodora 

with  a  violent  start,  the  peculiar  and  quite  unmistak 
able  walk  of  Barnabetta — the  slightly  awkward  gait 
of  a  country  damsel  combined  with  a  swing  and  light 
ness  singularly  her  own  and  oddly  expressive  (he  had 
always  vaguely  felt)  of  her  unique  simplicity. 

''Elizabeth!"  he  turned  into  the  vestibule  to  call 
after  his  sister,  "I  'm  not  coming  in  just  yet." 

"Very  well.     Good-night.    I  'm  going  to  bed." 

"Good-night." 

He  glanced  at  his  watch  before  he  went  out  again ; 
it  was  just  past  midnight.  He  frowned  indignantly 
as  he  hurried  down  the  path  to  overtake  the  girl. 

Mrs.  Winthrop,  meantime,  as  she  got  herself  ready 
for  bed,  reflected,  with  a  sense  of  complacency,  upon 
her  brother's  evidently  restless  and  sentimental  state 
of  mind,  that  he  should,  at  this  late,  cold  hour,  go 
wandering  about  in  the  moonlight. 

"Good  symptom!"  she  pronounced  as  she  brushed 
her  hair. 

A  faintly  sarcastic  smile  flitted  across  her  rather 
hard  face.  "The  conflict  of  their  two  wills,  once  he 
and  Theodora  are  married,"  she  said  to  herself,  "will 
certainly  be  interesting  to  contemplate!  And  poor 
Edgar  really  imagines  her  as  angelic  as  she  sounds 
and  looks!  Well,  there  's  certainly  a  little  surprise 
awaiting  him,  dear  boy!  But  it  will  do  him  good — 
no  end  of  good!" 


191 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BARNABETTA    AGAIN    BREAKS    THE   RULES 

BAERETT  saw,  as  he  drew  near  to  Barnabetta, 
that  she  was  strolling  as  leisurely,  as  aimlessly, 
as  though  it  were  midday  instead  of  midnight.  Evi 
dently  she  was  not  running  away;  not  going  any 
where  in  particular;  simply  out  for  a  midnight 
pleasure  walk! 

At  the  crackling  sound  of  his  steps  on  the  crisp 
snow,  she  turned  in  the  path,  and  seeing  who  it  was 
that  followed  her,  waited  for  him  to  overtake  her. 

They  were  far  from  the  college  buildings,  but  he 
was  not  sure  that  they  could  not  be  seen  in  the  bright 
moonlight  from  the  windows  of  the  dormitories  if 
any  one  chanced  to  get  out  of  bed  and  look  out. 
They  could  not  of  course  be  recognized,  but  their 
being  seen  might  lead  to  an  investigation!  A  nice 
state  of  things! 

His  face  was  stern  as  he  joined  her,  but  she,  looking 
up  at  him  in  friendly,  frank  admiration  of  his  high 
silk  hat  and  fur-trimmed  overcoat,  showed  not  a  sign 
of  consternation  at  being  discovered  in  her  unlawful 
behavior ! 

She  wore  a  blue  coat-suit  and  a  red  tam-o'-shanter 
192 


Barnabetta  Again  Breaks  the  Rules 

pulled  down  over  her  ears,  and  the  fingers  of  her  mit- 
tened  hands  were  thrust  into  the  small  pockets  of 
her  jacket. 

"Well?"  he  coldly  questioned. 

"Very  well,  I  thank  you,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"What  on  earth  are  you  doing  out  of  your  room 
at  this  hour  of  the  night?"  he  sharply  demanded  in 
a  voice  calculated  to  drive  home  to  her  the  gravity  of 
his  disapproval. 

"Just  what  you  are,  Dr.  Barrett,"  she  answered  in 
gentle  astonishment.  "Taking  a  walk." 

"How  dare  you  violate  the  college  laws,  child,  in 
this  high-handed  way  ? ' ' 

"I  'm  sorry  to  annoy  you  so!"  she  said  regretfully, 
as  though  soothing  an  excited  boy.  "Of  course  I 
never  thought  of  meeting  you.  Have  you  been  out 
on  company?"  she  sociably  inquired. 

"You  seem  to  require  a  special  guard,  a  keeper!'* 
he  exclaimed  irascibly.  ' '  Miss  Dreary,  the  rules  of 
Stevens  College  were  made  to  be  obeyed,  not  de 
fied!" 

She  looked  up  at  him  pensively,  her  gaze  unwaver 
ing.  "All  right,"  she  said  quietly.  "I  '11  go  in 
then."  She  turned  reluctantly  in  the  path.  "Are 
you  coming  too?"  she  asked  over  her  shoulder. 

"I  shall  follow  you  to  see  that  you  get  back  to  the 
house  unmolested." 

' '  Follow  me  ?  Can 't  you  walk  with  me  ?  "  she  asked 
wistfully. 

193 


Barnabetta 

For  answer  he  stepped  to  her  side.  "Come!"  he 
said  coldly. 

She  looked  childishly  pleased  as  she  strolled  at  his 
side. 

"Don't  you  realize  the  danger  in  your  coining  out 
here  alone  at  night — a  young  girl  like  you?"  he  de 
manded. 

"Are  there  tramps  about?  But  on  this  campus 
you  could  see  one  long  before  he  could  overtake  you. 
I  was  n  't  afraid. ' ' 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  whether  you  are  afraid 
or  not.  It  is  a  question  of  your  submission  to 
college  law.  You  must  not  come  out  alone  at 
night!" 

"You  are  with  me  now — couldn't  we  stop  outdoors 
a  while?"  she  begged.  "It's  so  lovely — I  hate  to 
go  in!" 

In  spite  of  himself  he  laughed. 

"Child,"  he  exclaimed  in  despair,  "can't  you  see 
the  impropriety  of  my  walking  about  with  you  out 
here  after  midnight?" 

"You  mean,"  she  asked,  puckering  her  smooth, 
white  forehead,  "they  would  talk  about  us — and  say 
you  were  my  Friend?" 

"Your  'friend'?"  he  repeated,  not  knowing  that 
the  word  had  for  Barnabetta  a  very  specific  meaning. 
"If  that  's  all  they  would  say!" 

"Would  you  care,"  she  asked  wonderingly,  "what 
they  would  say — you?"  she  repeated  in  a  tone  which 

194 


Barnabetta  Again  Breaks  the  Rules 

implied  with  unconscious  flattery  his  elevation  above 
the  plane  where  one  need  mind  petty  slander. 

"What  did  you  come  out  for?"  he  demanded  im 
patiently,  ignoring  her  question. 

' '  The  night  was  so  beautiful — and  I  had  been  read 
ing  Daniel  Deronda!" — she  caught  her  breath  with 
the  excitement  of  it — "and  when  the  lights  went  out, 
I  knew  I  couldn't  sleep — I  felt  so  restless — as  if  my 
brain  were  burning!  I  just  dressed  and  came  out. 
That  book!  I  could n 't  keep  quiet.  I  had  to  walk!" 

"It  is  lucky  for  you  that  I,  rather  than  some  other 
person  in  authority,  discovered  you !  Even  my  inter 
ference  would  not  save  you  from  expulsion  for  a  thing 
like  this,  Miss  Dreary,  if  the  authorities  knew  of  it. 
It  must  not — understand  me! — happen  again!" 

"All  right,"  she  repeated  submissively. 

"You  '11  really  have  to  make  up  your  mind  to  fall 
in  line  and  behave  yourself,  you  know.  We  can 't  put 
up  with  such  things  as  this!  Why,  Miss  Dreary,  I 
have  a  niece  at  a  college  and  if  I  heard  of  her  dis 
obeying  the  college  laws  as  you  do — if  she  ever  dared 
to  do  what  you  are  doing  to-night — well, ' '  he  affirmed, 
determined  to  impress  her  with  the  seriousness  of  her 
offense,  "I  should  be  ashamed  to  own  her  for  my 
niece ! ' ' 

"  'Ashamed'?"  she  repeated.  "But,"  she  said 
thoughtfully,  "I  don't  seem  to  feel  I  Ve  done  any 
thing  to  be  ashamed  of.  I  'm  very  sorry,  though,  to 
be  such  a  worry  to  you ! ' ' 

195 


Barnabetta 

"You  are  indeed  a  'worry'  to  me!  I  don't  know 
what  on  earth  to  do  with  you !  I  wonder  what  next 
I  shall  find  you  doing!" 

"I  wonder  too!  I  certainly  did  not  think  you 
would  find  me  out  here  to-night ! ' ' 

"Have  you  no  respect  for  authority?" 

"  'Kespect  for  authority'?"  she  pensively  consid 
ered  it.  "I  can't  seem  to  find  that  I  have.  I  have 
been  under  authority  all  my  life — but  I  never  're 
spected'  it.  I  disregarded  it  when  I  wanted  to  very 
much,  and  could  without  being  discovered." 

"You  'disregarded'  the  loving  authority  of  your 
parents  ? ' ' 

"  'Loving  authority'?  No,  sir,"  she  said  slowly. 
"I  never  disregarded  any  least  bit  of  love  that  ever 
came  into  my  life." 

"Under  whose  authority,  then,  have  you  been,  as 
you  say,  all  your  life?" 

"Under  my  father's." 

"And,"  he  asked  hesitatingly,  "you  are  sure  it  was 
not  a  government  for  your  own  good — born  of  affec 
tion  for  you?" 

"It  was  born  of  their  need  of  me — of  my  work  for 
them." 

"Ah?  But  your  love  for  your  mother.  How  about 
her  authority?" 

"We  are  companions,  friends.  There  is  no  idea  of 
authority." 

"But  surely  when  you  were  a  little  girl?" 
196 


Barnabetta  Again  Breaks  the  Rules 

"She  was  not  with  us  then." 

"Not  with  you?" 

"She  is  my  stepmother." 

' '  Your  stepmother !    Ah ! " 

"Yes.    Father  married  her  last  spring." 

' '  Last  spring !  I  see !  And  she  sends  you  here  to 
school — against  your  father's  wishes?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  never  knew  what  happiness  there 
could  be  in  the  world  till  she  came!" 

He  pondered  it  as  they  walked  slowly  in  silence. 
It  seemed  to  him  a  peculiarly  interesting  situation. 

They  came  now  to  the  President's  Residence  and 
Barnabetta  stopped  in  the  path. 

"Well,  good-night,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"I  shall  see  you  to  your  door." 

"But  you  needn't  trouble,"  she  protested  solic 
itously.  ' '  I  pass  you  my  promise  I  will  go  right  in. ' ' 

"I  shall  see  you  in,"  he  insisted,  taking  a  step 
forward.  But  she  stood  still. 

"Don't  you  trust  my  promise?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  But  I  shall  see  you  to  your 
door,"  he  repeated  obstinately. 

The  pensiveness  of  her  face  gave  way  to  bright 
pleasure.  "Just  for  my  company?  All  right!  Do 
you  know,"  she  said  happily  as  they  strolled  on  slowly, 
"I  could  walk  like  this  all  night!  I  hate  to  go  in 
doors.  Don't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  why  must  we  go  in?" 
197 


Barnabetta 

"I  have  told  you." 

"Because  of  'rules,'  because  of  people  passing  re 
marks,  we  must  'deny  the  soul,'  as  that  poet  says? 
Oh,  I  can't  think  so!" 

"I  'm  afraid  you  will  have  to  think  so,  child!" 

"But  at  this  rate,  there  is  almost  as  much  in  col 
lege  life  to  check  our  growth  as  to  help  it!" 

He  looked  down  at  the  young  face  at  his  side. 
What  wisdom  she  spoke  sometimes! 

"I  cannot  deny  that,"  he  said. 

"This  is  the  first  time,"  she  remarked,  "that  a 
gentleman  ever  saw  me  safe  home.  You  '11  be  sur 
prised  to  hear  it,  seeing  I  'm  eighteen  years  old,  but  I 
have  never  kept  company.  Father  would  n  't  leave  me. " 

"  'Leave'  you?     You  mean   allow  you?" 

"Yes,  allow  me.  Is  it  improper  to  say  it  like  I 
said  it?" 

"You  must  say  he  wouldn't  let  you,  not  'leave' 
you.  Did  he  think  you  too  young?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  too  young;  he  needed  me  to  keep 
house;  so  he  would  not  leave — let — me  marry.  But 
when  Mama  came  and  he  didn't  need  me  any  more, 
then  he  wanted  Abel  Buchter  to  come  Sunday  even 
ings — but  you  see,  Mama  sent  me  to  college." 

"To  get  you  away  from  Abel  Buchter?" 

"Yes,  and  to  get  educated." 

' '  But  when  you  go  home  in  the  summer — how  about 
Abel?" 

"He  will  want  to  come  Sunday  evenings,"  she 
198 


Barnabetta  Again  Breaks  the  Rules 

answered,  a  faintly  troubled  note  in  her  voice.  "And 
father  will  want  to  make  me  keep  company  with 
him." 

""Won't  Abel  and  your  father  be  too  much  for  you 
and  your  stepmother?" 

"Nothing,  so  far,  has  been  too  much  for  Mama." 

"That  's  encouraging." 

"Yes — for  I  don't  want  to  keep  company  with 
Abel." 

"I  'm  glad  to  hear  it." 

"Are  you?    Why?" 

"I  don't  believe  he  is  good  enough  for  you." 

"That  's  what  Mama  says." 

"Your  stepmother — is  she  as  fond  of  you  as  you 
are  of  her?" 

' '  Yes,  sir — and  it  seems  sometimes  as  if  it  could  n  't 
be !  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  have  any  one  fond 
of  me  before — or  to  be  fond  of  any  one!" 

"You. had  never  before  in  your  life  been  fond  of 
any  one?" 

"No,  sir." 

"One  would  expect,  if  that  is  true,  to  find  you 
hard;  and  yet  you  are  a — a  very  sweet  and  lovable 
little  girl,  Barnabetta ! ' '  Her  odd  name  slipped  from 
his  lips  so  naturally! 

"Thank  you!"  she  said  gratefully. 

"Tell  me,"  he  abruptly  asked  her,  "about  Daniel 
Deronda;  what  especially  did  you  find  so  exciting 
in  it — that  it  should  drive  you  out  of  doors  like  this?" 

199 


Barnabetta 

"That  strange  man,"  she  answered  breathlessly, 
' '  Grandcourt !  Could  there  ever  have  been  such  a 
cruel  man?  Of  course  I  know  all  men,  except  you, 
are  selfish  and  coarse  and  brutal,"  she  admitted  as 
though  stating  an  accepted  and  obvious  fact;  ''but  a 
cold-blooded,  cruel  man  I  never  saw.  He  makes  me 
shudder!  It 's  worse  to  be  like  that — a  man  of  edu 
cation  and  yet  so  without  feeling — than  to  be  like  most 
other  men — just  selfish  because  they  're  coarse." 

"What  awful  ideas  you  have,  child!" 

They  stopped  at  this  moment  at  the  front  door  of 
the  dormitory  building. 

"Good-night,"  Barrett  at  once  lifted  his  hat. 
"But,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "the  door  is  of  course 
locked!  How  will  you  get  in?" 

A  vision  confronted  him  of  his  sister's  consterna 
tion  if  he  should  be  obliged  to  take  Barnabetta  back 
to  his  own  house  for  the  night — which  he  would  cer 
tainly  do  rather  than  betray  the  girl's  behavior  by 
rousing  those  in  charge  of  the  dormitory. 

"The  fire-escape,"  Barnabetta  coolly  explained. 
"Good-night." 

But  he  followed  her  to  the  side  of  the  house  and 
waited  below  while  she  mounted  the  steep  steps  to 
the  third  floor  of  the  building. 

She  waved  her  tam-o'-shanter  to  him  as  she  disap 
peared  through  the  window.  And  he,  very  slowly  and 
thoughtfully,  his  nerves  tingling  with  an  abundant 
sense  of  life,  walked  back  under  the  stars  to  his  home. 

200 


CHAPTER  XXII 

HER  EVOLUTION  AT  COLLEGE 

IN  Dr.  Barrett's  estimation,  Barnabetta's  mental 
awakening  and  unfolding-  during  the  remaining 
months  of  the  term  were  truly  astonishing.  She 
seemed  to  drink  in  and  to  really  assimilate  knowledge 
with  the  thirst  of  one  who  has  traveled  long  on  a 
desert  waste. 

She  not  only  studied  very  hard — too  hard,  he  anx 
iously  thought ;  she  also  read  voraciously ;  and  it  was 
evident  that,  not  being  a  numbskull,  she  got  infinitely 
more  real  education  out  of  her  promiscuous  but  avid 
reading  than  out  of  her  text-books. 

"It  worried  me  there  for  a  while,"  she  once  told 
him  in  a  talk  over  one  of  her  unique  papers,  "that  I 
spent  so  much  time  reading  novels  and  poetry  and 
anything  at  all  that  I  found  in  the  library  that  at 
tracted  me,  until  one  day  I  read  in  one  of  Shake 
speare's  plays: 

No  profit  goes  where  is  no  pleasure  ta'en, 
In  brief,  sir,  study  what  you  most  affect, 

— and  I  saw  how  true  that  is.  Isn't  it  wonderful 
the  way  Shakespeare  knew  the  truth  about  human 
beings?" 

201 


Barnabetta 

He  was  glad  that  with  the  growing  of  her  mind 
she  did  not  grow  sophisticated;  did  not  lose  her  sim 
plicity.  "Would  any  amount  of  worldly  experience, 
he  wondered,  rob  her  of  that  naive  candor  which  was 
her  charm?  It  seemed  to  him  that  her  long  habit  of 
feeding  her  soul  from  within,  in  the  absence  of  ex 
ternal  sources  of  nourishment,  had  given  her  truer, 
more  absolute  standards  of  life,  of  judgment;  a  less 
artificial  outlook,  than  most  of  us,  in  our  worldliness, 
could  possibly  acquire. 

The  spring  examinations  landed  Barnabetta,  to  her 
own  delighted  surprise,  in  the  junior  class,  condi 
tioned  only  in  German,  and  Dr.  Barrett  assured  her 
that  if  she  kept  up  her  studies  during  the  vacation, 
she  could  easily  make  the  senior  class  by  the  second 
semester  and  graduate  the  following  spring. 

The  vacation  arrived;  the  college  emptied  itself  of 
its  two  hundred  students ;  Judge  Jordan  and  his  sister 
went  away,  leaving  their  house  closed  for  the  summer ; 
and  the  town  of  Middleton  settled  down  to  a  deadly 
stillness. 

President  Barrett,  lingering  on  at  the  college  for 
several  weeks  to  finish  up  some  work,  found  himself 
lonely  and  morose.  He  missed,  unspeakably,  the 
stimulating  and  fascinating  relation  into  which  he  and 
Miss  Jordan  had  grown.  They  had  so  much  in  com 
mon — music,  literature,  art — she  loved  everything 
that  he  loved ;  and  with  her  extraordinarily  fine  appre 
ciations  and  insights,  she  constantly  opened  up  to  him 

202 


Her  Evolution  at  College 

new  beauties,  new  vistas  of  truth,  new  elements  /of 
worth  in  life.  No  woman  that  he  had  ever  met  meas 
ured  up  as  she  did  to  the  ideal  woman  of  his  dreams. 
Her  absence  from  Middleton,  his  consciousness  that 
he  could  not  now  go  to  her  whenever  he  would,  for 
a  restful  or  an  uplifting  hour,  made  the  days  long, 
dreary  and  dead.  Tired  as  he  was  of  the  college 
routine,  he  would  be  glad  when  the  summer  was  over 
that  he  might  again  have  the  great  privilege  and 
happiness  of  her  companionship. 

They  wrote  to  each  other  of  course,  and  her  letters 
were  episodes  to  him.     The  day  he  received  one  was 
always  a  day  glowing  with  life.     The  delight  of  re 
sponding  to  her  wonderful  letters  promised  to  be  the  ' 
recreation  of  his  summer. 

And  behind  and  over  and  through  all  this  high  and 
beautiful  relation,  ran  the  consciousness  of  something 
else  which  he  missed  during  this  long  vacation — the 
daily  sight  of  Barnabetta's  young  face,  the  interest 
ing  unfolding  of  her  young  mind  and  soul,  her  wonder 
at  life,  her  receptivity,  her  unexpectedness,  her  unique 
truthfulness.  He  missed  it.  He  was  astonished  to 
find  what  a  blank  her  absence  left  in  his  daily  life. 
Yes,  he  would  be  glad  when  college  reopened  and  he 
could  enjoy  once  more  the  diversion  of  studying  Bar- 
nabetta,  as  well  as  teaching  her. 

He  found  himself  wondering  often,  during  these 
summer  days,  about  the  curious  life  of  which  the  girl 
had  given  him  occasional  glimpses — the  ' '  highly-edu- 

203 


Barnabetta 

cated"  stepmother,  who,  with  her  apparently  inex 
haustible  thousand-dollar  income,  maintained  Barna 
betta  at  college  and  at  the  same  time  maintained  her 
own  independence  of  a  miserly,  tyrannical  husband — 
marvelous  woman!  Then,  the  brute  of  a  father,  the 
two  big  brothers  who  were  evidently  chips  of  the  old 
block,  the  love-lorn  and  rejected  schoolmaster,  the 
devoted  friendship  between  the  "rich"  adopted 
mother  and  the  flower-like  girl  in  her  alien  environ 
ment.  How  far  was  Reinhartz  from  Middleton  any 
how  ?  Could  he  perhaps  motor  to  the  place  some  day 
and  call  on  Barnabetta  and  her  family  ?  He  was  not 
without  a  sense  of  humor  at  the  imagined  situation — 
his  reputedly  finicky,  pernickety-nice  self  in  such  a 
setting !  Scarcely  ever  in  his  life  had  he  ' '  rubbed  up 
against"  so-called  "common  people." 

It  was  at  this  point  in  his  reflections  that  the  beau 
tiful,  ethereal  image  of  Theodora  flitted  across  the 
grotesque  picture  he  had  called  up — making  him  feel 
unworthy  of  the  high  gift  of  her  friendship.  A  sense 
of  unworthiness  was  so  unfamiliar  to  him  that  it  re 
acted  in  a  new  sense  of  reverence  for  the  rare  woman 
that  could  create  it.  The  man  did  not  walk  the  earth 
who  would  not  be  exalted  by  the  high  gift  of  The 
odora's  friendship! 

Mrs.  Winthrop  had  been  rather  keenly  disappointed 
when,  ignoring  most  propitious  circumstances,  her 
brother  had  allowed  Theodora  Jordan  to  depart  for 
the  summer  to  join  her  maternal  relatives  at  their 

204 


Her  Evolution  at  College 

Bar  Harbor  home  without,  so  far  as  Mrs.  Winthrop 
knew,  having  betrothed  himself  to  her,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  seemed  to  be  so  extremely  attracted  to  her, 
to  find  her  so  congenial,  to  admire  her  so  blindly. 
Why  was  he  so  slow  in  taking  the  next  inevitable 
step  ? — for  it  was  manifest  enough  that  he  was  fated 
to  fall  in  love  with  the  girl.  As  for  Theodora  herself, 
goddess  though  she  considered  herself,  she  could  not 
more  effectually  (however  subtly  and  delicately) 
throw  herself  at  Edgar  if  she  were  a  woman  of  the 
streets ! 

Such  was  Mrs.  Winthrop 's  coarse,  if  frank,  state 
ment  of  the  case  to  her  own  consciousness. 

She  herself  was  so  uncommonly  glad  to  get  out  of 
Middleton  and  join  her  daughter  at  Bryn  Mawr,  to 
proceed  thence  to  their  summer  home  at  Newport,  that 
she  marveled  how  Theodora  could  be  so  determined 
to  marry  a  man  destined  to  live,  for  some  years  at 
least,  in  this  tiresome,  vulgar  little  town — even  though 
he  was  a  Barrett  of  Boston. 

Well,  she  could  only  hope  that  Edgar  would  learn, 
in  this  summer's  separation,  how  much  he  was  in  love 
with  the  girl.  Theodora,  in  putting  herself,  just  at 
this  time,  out  of  his  reach,  had  no  doubt  carefully 
calculated  the  salutary  effect  upon  his  budding  pas 
sion,  of  a  season  of  loneliness  in  which  he  would  have 
time  to  realize  what  she  meant  to  him. 


205 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HER  SUMMER  AT  HOME 

MEANTIME,  Barnabetta  at  home,  was  going 
through  a  curious  phase  of  her  life.  The  fa 
miliar  environment  of  her  childhood,  viewed  now 
from  a  newly  created  outlpok,  seemed  strangely  un 
familiar.  She  had  always  lived  essentially  aloof 
from  its  sordidness;  but  while  hitherto  this  aloofness 
had  been  merely  instinctive,  she  now  quite  con 
sciously  winced  at  what  had  once  been  to  her  only 
something  to  be  thrust  away  and  not  thought  about. 
And  yet  her  fuller  realization  of  her  own  inherent 
difference  frojn,  her  father  and  brothers,  while  she 
found  it  unutterably  depressing,  gave  her,  somehow, 
a  broader  charity  for  them,  a  more  patient  pity. 

Fortunately  for  the  one  happy  feature  of  her  home 
life,  her  companionship  with  her  stepmother,  her 
college  experiences  had  not  opened  her  eyes  where 
love  had  closed  them,  to  the  grotesque  peculiarities  of 
her  father's  wife;  and  all  summer  long  Barnabetta 
basked  in  the  sunshine  of  the  strong,  deep  affection 
she  gave  and  received — and  nothing  she  had  gleaned 
from  text-books  or  from  her  new  associations  did  more 
for  her  development,  mentally  and  spiritually,  than 

206 


Her  Summer  at  Home 

this  great  reciprocal  tenderness  that  had  come  into 
her  life  to  enrich  and  bless  it. 

Mr.  Dreary  and  the  boys  had  anticipated  Barna- 
betta  's  home-coming  with  a  sullen  resentment,  not  un 
mixed  with  curiosity. 

"Won't  she  be  a  high-stepper  anyhow,  now  she  's 
been  at  such  a  college  yet ! ' '  Jacob  had  scornfully  re 
marked  on  the  eve  of  her  return. 

"Yes,  I  guess  anyhow!"  Emanuel  had  agreed. 

"Well,  she  needn't  sling  her  head  around  me!  I 
ain't  taking  no  airs  off  her!"  affirmed  Jacob  man 
fully. 

"Your  sister  is  not  an  acrobat,  my  son,"  said  Mrs. 
Dreary. 

"She  ain't  got  the  dare  to  be  too  proud  fur  to  help 
do  the  work!"  Mr.  Dreary  threateningly  affirmed. 
"If  she  's  stayin'  home  all  summer,  she  kin  anyways 
save  you  hirin'  the  ironin'." 

"You  know  what  our  dear  daughter  wrote  us,  Hus 
band — if  she  studies  all  summer  she  may  be  able  to 
graduate  next  spring.  Therefore,"  Mrs.  Dreary  an 
nounced  firmly,  "I  have  engaged  a  servant  for  over 
the  summer,  so  that  Barnabetta,  unselfish  child  that 
she  is,  shall  not  feel  obliged  to  help  me  with  the  house 
work." 

Mr.  Dreary  choked  over  the  hot  coffee  he  was  drink 
ing  as  he  heard  this  maddening  statement,  for  they 
were  at  supper. 

"Well,  I  'm  blamed!     Are  you  crazy  or  what?" 
207 


Barnabetta 

"I  may  be  what — I  trust  I  'm  not  crazy,  as  you  gal 
lantly  suggest,  my  dear." 

"Gettin'  a  hired  girl  "because  Barnabetta 's  comin' 
home !  Don 't  that  now  beat  everything !  You  think 
I  'm  leavin'  her  loaf  here  all  summer  on  me?  What 
do  you  take  me  fur,  anyhow?" 

"A  very-nmch-married  man,  Husband,  who  will 
have  to  submit  to  a  servant's  presence  in  his  house, 
however  distasteful,  so  long  as  Barnabetta  is  at  home. 
She  shall  not  waste  her  valuable  time  doing  housework. 
She  is  going  to  be  free  to  study  and  to  go  about  with 
me,  driving,  walking,  and  so  forth.  I  anticipate  the 
two  happiest  months  of  my  life  in  the  renewal  of  my 
daily  companionship  with  my  dear  girl  of  whom  I 
have  reason  to  be  so  proud;  who  so  richly  repays  me 
for  all  I  try  to  do  for  her ! ' ' 

' '  Repays  you !  How,  I  'd  like  to  know !  That  's 
just  what  wonders  me  so — what  you  git  out  of  all  her 
learnin'  that  costs  so  expensive — and  what  do  I  git? 
That  's  what  I  'd  like  to  be  tole!" 

"It  depends  upon  yourself,  Barnaby,  what  you  '11 
get  out  of  it.  As  for  me,  the  day  I  see  my  daughter 
stand  up  at  Stevens  College  to  read  her  graduation 
essay  and  to  receive  her  diploma,  my  cup  will  be  full, 
my  J°y  too  deep  for  words!  I  shall  feel  I  have  not 
lived  in  vain." 

"Well,  you  're  different  again  to  what  I  am,"  Mr. 
Dreary  unnecessarily  stated.  ' '  And  you  '11  live  to  be 
sorry  fur  it,  too." 

208 


Her  Summer  at  Home 

"Not  so  sorry  as  I  would  certainly  be  if  I  were  silly 
enough  to  turn  all  my  money  over  to  you,  Husband," 
Juliet  cheerfully  answered — at  the  peril  of  giving  her 
husband  another  choking  spell  over  his  coffee. 

"Honest  to  gosh,"  Jacob  remarked  as  Mrs.  Dreary 
at  this  juncture  left  the  room,  "if  I  was  married  to 
a  woman  that  sassed  me  like  that,  I  'd  lick  her!" 

"Yes,  well,  but,"  growled  his  father,  "times  is 
changed  so!  "Women  ain't  what  they  was.  You  lay 
a  hand  on  a  woman  these  times,  and  she  '11  up  and 
leave  you  or  have  the  law  on  you  yet ! ' ' 

When  Barnabetta  at  last  arrived,  they  were  greatly 
astonished  to  find  her,  during  the  first  few  days,  not 
at  all  "airy"  or  "high-minded."  Apparently,  she 
was  the  same  quiet,  simple,  rather  dull  girl  she  had 
always  been.  Mr.  Dreary,  at  the  accustomed  sight 
of  her  figure  moving  about  the  house,  experienced,  to 
his  own  surprise,  the  unusual  sensation  of  a  fond, 
almost  an  affectionate,  complacency.  He  had  not  re 
alized,  until  her  return,  how  much  he  had  really 
missed  her.  He  actually  found  pleasure  in  just 
"hanging  round"  and  looking  at  the  child,  and  this 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  being  there  brought  the 
irritation  of  a  superfluous  "hired  girl"  installed  in 
the  house. 

But  Barnabetta  had  not  been  home  many  days 
before  both  her  father  and  brothers  began  to  feel  they 
had  been  hasty  in  their  conclusion  that  she  was  not 
changed.  They  could  not  have  defined  what  they 

209 


Barnabetta 

saw — or  felt  rather  than  saw.  There  was  something 
— a  dignity,  a  suggested  power — in  the  mere  presence 
of  their  quiet,  gentle  sister,  before  which  they  experi 
enced  a  vague  sense  of  awe  that  was  indeed  a  novelty 
in  their  brute  ideas  of  women,  but  which  had  the 
effect  of  strangely  subduing  them. 

Barnabetta  could  find  it  in  her  heart  to  pity  her 
father's  helpless  suffering  over  her;  at  the  money 
squandered  upon  her ;  at  the  presence  of  the  servant ; 
at  what  he  considered  her  idleness  and  uselessness. 
This  summer  more  than  ever,  her  stepmother 's  daring 
in  having  defied  and  conquered  what  the  girl  had  al 
ways  accepted  as  inevitable,  seemed  the  height  of 
heroism. 

Mr.  Dreary,  however,  was  not  so  subdued  but  that 
he  trie'd,  with  clumsy,  obvious  cunning,  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  wasteful  expenditure  upon  his  daughter  by 
encouraging  the  suit  of  Abel  Buchter. 

Poor  Abel  hovered  wretchedly — feeling  how  unat 
tainable  the  girl  was  now,  in  the  new  atmosphere  that 
seemed  to  enfold  her,  but  unable  to  conquer  his  pas 
sion  for  her. 

One  evening  as  he  sat  alone  with  her  in  the  parlor 
at  her  home — Mr.  Dreary  having  diplomatically  made 
the  coast  clear  by  getting  up  a  headache  which  de 
manded  his  wife's  attendance — Abel  spoke  to  Barna 
betta  from  the  depths  of  his  despair. 

"I  can  see  it  at  you,  Barnabetta,  that  you  are  get 
ting  too  high-minded  for  me !  Now  I  like  education — • 

210 


Her  Summer  at  Home 

none  likes  it  better.  But  I  like  it  used  in  moderation. 
Now  since  you  've  been  amongst  these  high  people, 
you  're  getting  just  like  them !  Oh,  I  've  had  plenty 
enough  of  experience  to  know  them  when  I  meet  up 
with  them !  They  're  so  educated  that  they  live  only 
for  this  world  and  forget  that  Christ  died  for  them 
and  that  there  's  a  Day  of  Reckoning ! ' ' 

Barnabetta  knew  how  desperate  Abel  felt  when  he 
appealed  to  religion  to  help  him  out. 

"You  call  me  educated,  Abel!"  she  mildly  pro 
tested.  "But  five  months  at  a  college  can't  educate 
a  person,  Abel,  indeed  it  can't." 

"Well,  you  're  getting  there  mighty  fast,  with  your 
German  and  literature  and  history  and  whatever! 
Do  you  look  to  teaching  after  you  grad-yate?" 

"I  don't  know,  Abel — it  will  be  a  long  time  before 
I  know  enough  to  teach. ' ' 

"I  've  been  earning  my  living  at  it  a  good  many 
years  and  I  was  never  to  college.  How  long  are  you 
going  to  study?" 

"As  long  as  there  's  anything  left  to  learn,  Abel — 
I  feel,  now,  as  if  to  stop  learning  would  be  to  stop 
living ! ' ' 

"But  you  certainly  expect  to  settle  down  some  time, 
don't  you?" 

"In  my  coffin  when  I  'm  dead.    Not  before." 

"You  can't  keep  on  living  here  on  your  Pop  and 
Mom,  Barnabetta — you  '11  have  to  get  at  something — 
if  you  won't  settle." 

211 


Barnabetta 

"I  'm  not  thinking  so  far  ahead,  the  present  is  so 
full.  Only  think,  Abel,  what  Mama's  coming  to  us 
has  brought  into  my  life ! ' ' 

"It  's  making  me  lose  you,  though!"  said  Abel 
heavily. 

' '  You  know  before  she  came  how  I  always  told  you, 
Abel,  that  I  didn't  want  to  marry." 

"Do  you  still  hold  to  that — that  you  won't  marry?" 

"Well,  mebby  not  so  strongly  as  I  did.  I  've  seen 
that  marriage  with  some  people  is  very  different  from 
anything  I  had  ever  known  it  to  be  here  in  Eeinhartz. 
I  've  heard  the  girls  talk  and  I  've  seen  some  of  the 
college  professors  with  their  wives — and  I  've  seen  the 
way  our  college  president  has  a  respect  for  women 
and  thinks  they  have  as  much  right  over  themselves 
as  men  have.  Think,  Abel,  of  the  happiness  a  woman 
could  know  married  to  a  man  who  would  want  to 
shield  her  always  from  everything  that  was  hard  to 
bear!" 

"Did  he  tell  you  that?"  demanded  Abel  in  quick 
suspicion. 

"No,  but  I  could  see  that  that  's  the  way  he  treats 
his  sister  that  keeps  house  for  him.  We  were  at  his 
house  to  a  students'  reception  one  night  and  if  his 
sister  so  much  as  felt  a  draught  of  air  on  her,  he 
hurried  to  close  the  door — and  to  wait  on  her  in  every 
little  way  to  save  her  trouble.  His  sister,  mind  you, 
Abel.  So  you  can  see,"  she  drew  a  quick  breath  and 

212 


Her  Summer  at  Home 

her  eyes  shone  like  stars,  "how  he  would  treat  a 
wife!" 

"Barnabetta,  is  he  keeping  company  with  you?" 

"Me!"  She  smiled  at  the  absurdity  of  it.  "No! 
He  keeps  company  with  a  beautiful,  wonderful  lady 
that  has  been  all  over  Europe  and  has  studied  in  Paris 
and  writes  poetry  that  is  printed  in  the  magazines! 
She  looks  like — like  Beatrice  that  Dante  loved  so  mis 
erably." 

"Loved  her  ' miserably,'  Barnabetta?" 

"So  un wholesomely,  Abel,  and  unmanfully.  I 
think  his  grief  for  her  was  just  a  terrible  dissipation 
with  him.  He  could  not  have  lived  without  that 
luxurious  grief!  If  she  had  accepted  him — well,  it 
seems  to  me  that  very  soon  he  would  have  come  to  feel 
he  had  n't  anything,  now,  to  put  his  mind  to." 

How  lovely  Barnabetta  looked  in  poor  Abel's  eyes 
when  her  face  glowed  with  the  earnestness  of  her 
thoughts  as  she  gave  them  to  him ! 

"And  does  your  President  Barrett  love  this  girl 
of  his  like  that?"  he  asked  dubiously. 

"I  don't  know.  He  is  a  stiff  person,  Abel — some 
times  I  think  he  is  a  little  proud,"  she  said,  doubt 
fully.  "But  I  've  seen  him  walking  in  the  campus 
with  that  lady  and  he  looks  at  her  with — with  hom 
age!" 

"'Does  it  give  you  jealous  feelings?"  Abel  asked, 
again  suspiciously. 

213 


Barnabetta 

"Well,  but,  Abel,  I  couldn't  expect  him  to  look  at 
me  with  homage!" 

"No,  that  's  so,  too,"  Abel  admitted  spiritlessly. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Mrs.  Dreary  swept  into 
the  room.  She  had  quickly  divined  the  ruse  that  had 
kept  her,  for  the  last  half  hour  of  this  summer 's  even 
ing,  at  her  husband 's  side,  and  she  now  hastened  to 
check,  by  her  haughtiest  manner,  any  advance  Abel 
may  have  made  in  his  tiresomely  persistent  courtship 
of  Barnabetta.  For  though  she  was  sure  Barnabetta 
would  never  love  the  schoolmaster,  she  did  not  care  to 
risk  the  possibly  fatal  result  of  an  appeal  on  his  part 
to  the  gentle  maiden's  pity. 

But  much  as  Mrs.  Dreary  loved  her  adopted  daugh 
ter,  she  did  not  fully  know  her;  did  not  realize  the 
substratum  of  strength  in  her  character,  concealed 
to  the  casual  observer  beneath  her  mild,  dreamy  man 
ner — a  strength  capable  of  a  firm  resistance  as  well  as 
of  heroic  yielding. 

A  very  small  dose  of  Mrs.  Dreary's  snubbing  proved 
sufficient  to  discourage  Abel  from  persisting  further 
to-night.  He  soon  rose  and  took  his  leave— deter 
mined,  however,  to  return  at  the  first  propitious  op 
portunity. 


214 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HER  NEW  OUTLOOK 

IT  was  during  this  summer  vacation  that  there  was 
born  in  Barnabetta  something  which  life  had 
never  before  opened  to  her ;  a  new  sense,  the  delicate, 
odd  pleasure  of  which  astonished  her — a  sense  of 
humor ;  and  once  born,  it  developed  as  precociously  as 
did  most  of  her  other  long-latent  powers. 

It  was  the  presence  of  the  young  maidservant  in 
her  home  that  gave  her  a  standard  of  comparison 
which  awakened  in  her  that  realization  of  incongruity 
which,  because  of  its  utter  novelty  to  her,  was  like 
the  opening  of  the  eyes  of  the  blind.  Barnabetta 
knew  that  this  summer  at  home,  by  reason  of  its  vio 
lent  contrasts  to  her  life  at  school,  was  educating  her 
more  rapidly  than  her  remaining  away  could  have 
done. 

Gladys  Spatz,  the  maidservant,  was  the  daughter 
of  a  well-to-do  farmer  who  lived  just  outside  the  vil 
lage,  and  she  was  ''hiring  out"  for  the  summer  to 
raise  some  money  for  her  marriage  which  was  to  take 
place  in  the  fall.  She  regarded  Barnabetta  with  a 
respect  amounting  almost  to  consternation  because  she 
"attended  college." 

215 


Barnabetta 

"My  Friend  he  's  educated  too,"  she  proudly  told 
Barnabetta,  referring,  of  course,  as  was  understood, 
to  her  lover.  "Yes,  he  was  to  Schultztown  Normal 
six  months  yet!" 

"You  look  so  like  your  sister  Sarah,"  Barnabetta 
said  to  her  one  day,  "who  used  to  come  in  from  the 
farm  to  Reinhartz  to  Abel  Buchter's  school  when  I 
was  a  little  girl. ' ' 

"But  I  am  her — I  mean  that  by  rights  my  name  is 
Sarah.  But  so  many  Sarahs  goes  by  Sal  and  I  do 
now  hate  these  here  nicknames,  so  I  just  took  the  name 
of  Gladys — you  can't  so  handy  nickname  that." 

Barnabetta  contemplated,  with  a  speculative  won 
der,  this  maiden's  complacency,  even  happiness,  in 
the  prospect  of  her  marriage.  It  seemed  so  like  self- 
immolation. 

"For  I  can't  see  what  she  expects  to  get  that  can 
make  up  to  her  for  giving  up  her  freedom — to  be 
come  just  like  a  slave  to  that  man  who  will  always 
think  that 's  all  she  's  for!" 

But  there  was  no  detail  of  the  little  new  house  for 
which  Gladys  was  preparing,  that  did  not  yield  the 
girl  intense  interest  and  satisfaction. 

"Pop  he  says  I  have  dare  to  take  along  the  parlor 
organ  when  I  go  to  housekeeping,  seein'  I  bought  it 
with  my  butter-and-egg  money,"  she  joyfully  an 
nounced  one  evening  upon  her  return  from  a  Sunday 
afternoon's  visit  to  her  home;  "I  think  it  's  so  tony — 
ain't? — to  have  sich  a  organ  in  the  parlor  settin'. 

216 


Her  New  Outlook 

My  Friend  he  says  mebby  till  we  're  all  settled  oncet, 
he  11  leave  me  take  a  couple  lessons  then." 

She  hoarded  her  wages  until  she  had  saved  enough 
to  pay  for  having  a  new  bellows  put  into  the  organ 
and  having  the  instrument  removed  to  her  own  new 
home,  and  one  day  she  brought  to  Barnabetta,  for 
revision,  a  letter  she  had  painfully  composed  and 
copied,  addressed  to  the  music-store  that  had  con 
tracted  to  mend  her  organ. 

"I  was  a-goin'  to  take  my  letter  to  Abel  Buchter 
to  make  it  right,"  said  Gladys,  "but  when  I  thought 
to  myself,  'Here  's  Barnabetta,  she  's  college-educated. 
yet  and  she  ain't  proud — I  '11  ast  it  off  of  her.'  To 
be  sure,  there  's  Missus,  she  's  high-educated,  too. 
But  she  always  talks  so  grand  that  way,  I  felt 
ashamed,  for  all,  to  leave  her  see  how  dumm  I  write. 
My  Friend,  too,  he  says  I  'm  awful  dumm.  So  I  come 
to  you,  Barnabetta." 

"I  '11  be  glad  to  help  you,  Gladys,"  Barnabetta 
had  responded,  taking  the  letter  from  the  girl  and  go 
ing  away  to  wrestle  with  it. 

"Dear  Friends,"  wrote  Gladys  to  the  music-firm, 
' '  I  would  like  to  know  if  yous  folks  entend  to  fix  Our 
Organ  I  want  to  have  it  fix-ed  this  weak.  So  yous  are 
to  leave  me  know  till  to-morrow,  if  yous  folks  Can't 
fix  it  leave  me  know.  So  leave  me  hear  right  aways 
from  yous  the  money  I  have  ready  till  the  Organ  is 
fix-ed  already  the  money  is  there  for  it  and  I  look  to 

217 


Barnabetta 

have  a  good  bellose  put  in  for  five  dollars  I  can  have 
one  Cheaper  than  five  dollars  but  I  don 't  look  on  that 
if  it  is  a  good  one  and  a  good  Job  done  of  it  I  don't 
say  a  word  about  the  5  dollars, 

"so  it  will  be  all  right  if  yous  folks  put  in  a  good 
bellose  and  leave  me  hear  right  aways.     Please  leave 
me  know  when  yous  sent  the  man  to  do  it. 
' '  Kindly  yours  truly 

"Miss  GLADYS  SPATZ." 

The  rather  appalling  task  of  revising  this  writing 
led  Barnabetta  to  suggest  to  Gladys  that  she  might 
as  well  just  telephone  to  the  Beading  firm.  "I  '11 
give  you  the  ten  cents  toll,  Gladys.'' 

"Ach,  no,  I  get  so  ver-huddled  when  I  have  to  talk 
in  a  tellyfome." 

"Well,  then,  let  me  telephone  for  you,"  Barnabetta 
offered,  knowing  that  if  she  entirely  re-wrote  the  let 
ter  the  girl  would  be  hurt;  "though  I  'm  not  used, 
either,  to  a  telephone,  Gladys,  but  I  guess  I  can  man 
age  it." 

She  wondered,  as  she  walked  down  to  the  hotel  to 
use  the  telephone,  why  she,  who  had  never  had  any 
more  chance  than  this  girl,  Gladys  Spatz,  had  never 
been  crude  in  just  the  same  way.  And  suddenly 
there  came  upon  Barnabetta,  with  a  thrill  of  wonder, 
the  realization  that  there  was  something  in  herself 
that  made  her  different,  that  set  her  apart,  from  the 
people  about  her;  she  awoke  in  that  moment  to  the 

218 


Her  New  Outlook 

excitement  of  a  sense  of  her  own  power — a  power  of 
intellect  and  of  will  that  could,  if  she  made  the  best 
of  them,  carry  her  to  the  heights  of  life.  It  came  to 
her  like  a  revelation;  she  walked  on  air,  her  pulses 
bounding,  her  brain  burning  with  her  new  conscious 
ness  of  herself  and  with  the  ambitious  visions  of  life 
that  it  brought  before  her. 

There  was  no  vanity  in  her  exultation — only  won 
der  and  gratitude  and  high  resolve. 

"When,  after  accomplishing  her  errand  at  the  hotel, 
she  was  slowly  and  thoughtfully  strolling  home,  she 
recalled  something  one  of  the  dormitory  girls  at  Ste 
vens  had  once  said  to  her,  which  at  the  time  had  made 
very  little  conscious  impression  upon  her,  but  which 
had  probably  really  sunk  deep,  for  she  remembered 
it  very  distinctly. 

"Prexy  Barrett  certainly  does  single  you  out  for 
special  notice,  Barnabetta!"  the  dormitory  girl  had 
affirmed.  "I  '11  tell  you  what — he  thinks  you  're 
clever.  And  I  believe  he  likes  you,  too,  with  your 
funny  way  of  saying  whatever  you  think — and  your 
funnier  way  of  not  being  scared  of  him  as  every  one 
else  is.  Why  aren't  you?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  why  any  one  should 
be  'scared  of  him,'  Janet." 

"Don't  you  notice  what  a  sarcastic  pig  he  is  to 
every  one  but  you?" 

Barnabetta  remembered,  as  she  looked  back  to-day 
over  her  months  at  college,  that  Dr.  Barrett  never 

219 


Barnabetta 

had  treated  either  her  work  or  herself  with  the  cut 
ting  sarcasm  habitual  to  him  in  his  dealings  with 
students.  The  realization  startled  her  with  a  kind 
of  shock.  Just  why  was  it  so  ? 


220 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CONFIDENCES 

MRS.  DREARY  pondered  earnestly  over  some 
of  Barnabetta's  confidences  made  to  her  dur 
ing  their  daily  walks  together  this  summer,  taken, 
usually,  just  after  the  latter 's  long  hours  of  study. 
She  could  not  quite  make  out  (and  she  had  the  good 
sense  to  refrain  from  directly  asking  Barnabetta) 
whether  or  not  the  child  was  in  love  with  the  College 
President  of  whom  she  talked  so  often.  Sometimes 
Mrs.  Dreary  was  sure  of  it;  then  again  the  girl's  un 
hesitating  way  of  reference  to  Dr.  Barrett  made  her 
doubt. 

"I  wish,  Mama,  you  could  hear  the  queer  way  he 
pronounces  his  words,"  she  remarked  one  evening  as 
they  walked  in  the  twilight.  "The  girls  say  he 
'picked  it  up'  at  Oxford.  They  used  to  practise  say 
ing  Yarmouth  bloater  the  way  he  pronounced  it  one 
day  in  class.  I  love  to  hear  his  accent.  It  is  so — so 
genteel.  I  think  I  always  imagined  before  I  knew 
him,  that  it  was  only  weak,  womanish  men  that  were 
so  genteel,  so  far  away  from  anything  coarse  or  rough, 
as  he  is.  But  he  is  a  manly  man,  Mama." 

"Is  he,  my  dear?" 

221 


Barnabetta 

"Yes,  lie  is." 

"You  have  said  he  is  so  very  sarcastic  with  the 
young  ladies — don't  you  call  that  a  little  rough, 
dearest?" 

"Not  the  least  bit  rough.  I  have  thought  it  was — 
well,  kind  of  cold-blooded." 

"I  should  say,  my  dear,  that  he  was  a  woman- 
hater!" 

"I  might  think  so,  too,  if  I  had  not  seen  him  several 
times  about  the  grounds  with  Miss  Jordan.  He  is  with 
her  so  much.  The  girls  think  they  are  promised — I 
mean  betrothed.  They  say  she  is  a  wonderful  woman. 
She  looks  like  the  heroine  of  a  novel  or  a  great  poem ! 
He  thinks  so  much  of  her  that  I  have  even  seen  him, 
when  he  was  walking  with  her,  smile  sometimes." 

' '  '  Smile  sometimes ! '  Gracious,  dear,  what  do  you 
mean?" 

"Mama,  he  hardly  ever  smiles.  Sometimes  in 
class  he  'd  say  witty  things  that  would  make  all  the 
students  laugh,  but  his  own  face  would  be  cold  and 
serious.  I  think  he  does  n't  really  like  teaching.  One 
day  when  we  went  to  class,  he  flung  down  a  book 
he  had  been  reading  as  if  he  hated  to  give  it  up,  and, 
jerking  his  Shakespeare  open,  he  said,  with  all  of  us 
staring  at  him,  'Well,  a  bore  to  you  and  a  bore  to  me 
— but  we  shall  have  to  go  through  with  it!'  And  I 
think  he  gave  us  that  day  the  most  interesting 
talk  on  the  play  of  Hamlet  I  had  ever  heard  him 
give!" 

222 


Confidences 

"Eccentric!"  pronounced  Mrs.  Dreary  conclu 
sively.  "A  genius  possibly,  but  eccentric." 

"He  's  such  a  wonderful  teacher,  Mama!  He 
brings  out  in  me  what  I  certainly  did  not  know 
was  in  me." 

"Which  is  the  province  of  the  true  teacher,  I 
should  say,"  responded  her  mother,  sententiously. 

Barnabetta,  with  all  her  advancement,  was  still  so 
unsophisticated  as  to  think  it  necessary,  just  before 
her  return  to  college,  to  write  to  Dr.  Barrett  and  ap 
prise  him  of  the  train  by  which  he  might  count  on  her 
arrival. 

It  was  on  the  evening  before  her  departure  that  she 
and  her  mother  went  to  the  village  parsonage  as  wit 
nesses  of  Gladys's  marriage,  and  heard  the  stolid 
bridegroom  distinguish  himself  when  asked,  "Eli,  do 
you  take  this  woman  to  be  your  wedded  wife, ' '  and  so 
forth — by  replying  rather  impatiently,  "I  come  a- 
purpose." 

On  leaving  the  parsonage,  Mrs.  Dreary  made  the 
married  pair  come  home  with  her  and  Barnabetta  to 
drink  grape-juice  and  cut  a  wedding-cake ;  after  which 
they  went  at  once  to  their  own  new  home  on  a  farm 
adjoining  Gladys's  father's.  The  only  remark  Bar 
nabetta  heard  the  bridegroom  make  to  Gladys  during 
the  evening  was  an  admonition. 

"You  better  redd  up  your  strubbly  head,  Gladys!" 
he  advised  her  when  in  her  excitement  her  refractory, 
curly  hair  became  a  bit  "strubbly." 

223 


Barnabetta 

It  was  seeing  Gladys  depart  for  the  bondage  of  her 
new  life — so  happily,  poor  girl ! — that  deepened  Bar 
nabetta 's  sense  of  thankfulness  to  her  beloved  mother 
for  her  own  escape  from  such  a  possible  fate. 


224 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

HER  RETURN   TO   STEVENS 

ME.  DREARY'S  consolation  for  the  vague  dis 
comfort  he  felt  at  Barnabetta's  going  away 
again  was  the  departure,  simultaneously,  of  the  "hired 
girl." 

Mrs.  Dreary's  parting  advice  to  her  dear  child, 
spoken  bravely  to  cover  an  aching  heart,  concerned 
Barnabetta's  "manners"  with  President  Barrett. 

"Your  demeanor,  my  love,  in  his  presence,  should 
be  self -poised,  yet  not  precocious." 

Barnabetta  conscientiously  considered  it  during  her 
journey,  but  failed  to  make  anything  out  of  it.  For 
tunately  not  even  her  desire  to  gratify  every  wish 
of  her  mother  could  change  the  unstudied  spontaneity 
of  her  "manners." 

During  the  long  weeks  at  home,  her  imagination 
had  come  to  endow  President  Barrett  somewhat  with 
the  aspect  of  a  poet's  hero  or  a  half -god,  and  she 
thrilled  at  the  thought  that  this  very  day  her  eyes 
would  again  behold  him.  It  seemed  too  wonderful 
to  be  possible  that  she  was  actually  once  more  to  look 
upon  that  fine,  noble  face,  to  hear  that  unforgetable 
voice  and  that  strange  accent,  to  watch  those  white 

225 


Barnabetta 

yet  virile  hands  of  his  as  they  turned  the  pages  of  a 
book  or  wielded  a  pen.  Dr.  Barrett's  hands  had  been 
a  startling  astonishment  to  Barnabetta  in  her  first 
acquaintance  with  him.  It  had  really  seemed  to  her 
as  abnormal  that  a  man  should  have  smooth,  white 
hands  as  that  he  should  wear  bracelets  and  ear 
rings. 

Although  she  had  apprised  him  of  the  time  of  her 
arrival  (politeness,  she  thought,  required  that  of  her), 
she  did  not  of  course  expect  him  to  meet  her  at  the 
depot.  So,  when  the  train  pulled  into  the  Middleton 
station  and  she  actually  saw,  from  the  car  window, 
that  he  was  there  on  the  platform,  she  was  frankly 
delighted. 

But  just  as  she  was  making  her  way  up  to  him  with 
radiant  face  and  outstretched  hand,  he  turned  to 
greet — Barnabetta  stopped  short — Dr.  Barrett  was 
holding  the  hand  and  gazing  long  into  the  eyes  of 
Miss  Jordan,  his  own  face  lit  up  with  pleasure,  oblivi 
ous  of  everything  but  the  beautiful,  exquisitely 
gowned  woman  whose  hands  he  clasped. 

Barnabetta  drew  a  quick  breath  of  relief  that  she 
had  stopped  in  time,  before  obtruding  herself  upon 
this  evidently  momentous  meeting.  She  lingered 
apart  for  an  instant,  watching  them  with  fascinated 
interest.  Dr.  Barrett  looked  to  her,  in  that  moment, 
all  that  her  imagination  had  pictured  him;  and  Miss 
Jordan's  manner,  so  very  attractive  as  it  appeared, 
would  probably,  she  thought,  have  been  pronounced 

226 


Her  Return  to  Stevens 

by  those  who  knew,  to  be  "self -poised  yet  not  preco 
cious.  ' ' 

When  she  had  recovered  her  breath,  she  proceeded 
on  her  way  down  the  platform  towards  the  baggage- 
room.  Dr.  Barrett,  who  stood  facing  her,  saw  her  as 
she  drew  near.  But  he  did  not  leave  his  companion 
to  come  and  greet  her.  Without  a  welcoming  smile, 
he  gravely  lifted  his  hat  as  she  passed  him.  That  was 
all.  Barnabetta  wondered  about  it  as  she  moved  on. 
She  was  not  hurt.  These  were  the  ways  and  manners 
of  people  to  whose  world  she  was  a  stranger.  She 
felt  entirely  confident  of  his  interest  in  her  and  even 
of  his  cordial  friendship. 

What  would  have  been  the  effect  upon  her  if  she 
could  at  that  moment  have  read  his  heart  and  seen 
that  he  was  nervous  with  apprehension  lest  she  stop 
and  speak  to  him  in  Miss  Jordan's  presence,  betray 
ing  by  her  inimitable  sincerity  the  really  unseemly 
intimacy  to  which  he  had  admitted  her?  Miss  Jor 
dan's  dignity,  her  sense  of  fitness,  would  be  offended 
by  the  familiarity  with  which  the  child  would  un 
doubtedly  accost  him.  Even  while,  slightly  turning 
as  he  stood  with  his  companion,  his  eyes  followed  the 
girl  as  she  walked  on  down  the  length  of  the  platform, 
with  that  peculiarly  characteristic  gait  of  hers  that 
had  always,  somehow,  affected  his  imagination  with 
a  thrill,  and  which  just  now  did  not  fail  to  reawaken 
the  pleasurable  sensation,  he  resolved  that  he  must 
not  again  yield  to  the  weakness  of  permitting  to  Bar- 

227 


Barnabetta 

nabetta  her  former  intimate  footing  with  him — he 
must  hold  her  as  he  did  his  other  students — at  arm's 
length. 

But  if  Barnabetta  could  have  looked  into  his  heart 
and  read  these  thoughts,  quite  probably  she  would 
wholly  have  failed  to  understand  them.  And,  mean 
time,  her  trust  in  and  admiration  of  her  teacher  re 
mained  entirely  unshaken  by  his  distant  greeting  of 
her. 

The  baggage-room  was  at  one  end  of  the  station, 
in  full  view  of  the  length  of  the  platform,  and  here 
Barnabetta  came  upon  an  embarrassing  difficulty.  A 
college-football  team  from  a  neighboring  town,  hav 
ing  played  against  the  Middleton  team  that  day,  was 
gathered  at  this  end  of  the  platform,  impeding  any 
approach  to  the  baggage-room.  They  were  howling, 
shouting  and  jostling  in  a  way  that  the  few  officials 
of  the  station  found  it  impossible  to  control.  Their 
train  did  not  leave  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  but 
Barnabetta  knew  that  if  she  did  not  take  her  trunk 
out  to  Stevens  College  with  her  now,  she  would  be  un 
able  to  get  it  out  until  the  next  day  at  this  hour.  Yet 
it  was  impossible  to  think  of  trying  to  wedge  her  way 
through  that  crowd  of  hoodlums.  She  looked  about 
her  helplessly.  She  sent  one  swift  glance  back  along 
the  length  of  the  platform  to  where  President  Barrett 
still  stood  with  Miss  Jordan — the  only  other  woman 
in  the  station.  But  though  Dr.  Barrett  must  surely 
realize  her  plight,  he  made  no  move  to  come  to  her. 

228 


Her  Return  to  Stevens 

Well,  to  be  sure,  a  student's  baggage  was  not  his 
affair. 

Suddenly  she  found  herself  nearly  knocked  down 
by  the  rough  compact  of  two  burly  young  men,  who 
instantly  saved  her  from  falling  by  grasping  her  arms 
and  proceeding  to  apologize  with  farcical  elaborate 
ness,  to  the  accompaniment  of  shouts  and  applause 
from  their  companions.  Barnabetta  tried,  with  fast- 
beating  heart,  to  wrench  herself  free  and  get  away. 
She  was  overcome  with  shame  at  having  Dr.  Barrett 
hear  the  way  these  young  men  were  speaking  to  her. 

All  at  once  she  found  a  big,  dark  figure  at  her  side, 
while  with  the  ease  of  a  professional  athlete  Judge 
David  Jordan  lifted  one  of  the  students  who  clasped 
her  arm,  by  his  collar  and  landed  him  out  on  the 
tracks;  the  other  one,  voluntarily  releasing  her,  did 
not,  however,  escape,  but  found  himself  also  lifted 
from  his  feet  and  deposited  on  top  of  his  fellow. 
The  shouting  and  howling  of  the  crowd  subsided  and 
they  looked  on  in  hushed  expectancy,  while  Jordan, 
raising  his  hat  to  Barnabetta  who  had  backed  to  the 
wall  in  her  effort  to  get  away,  asked  her  how  he  might 
further  help  her? 

Pale,  and  mute  from  loss  of  breath,  she  handed  him 
her  trunk-check. 

"Where  shall  the  trunk  be  sent?"  he  inquired, 
holding  his  hat. 

"To  Stevens  College,"  breathed  Barnabetta,  the 
childlike  relief  and  gratitude  with  which  she  confided 

229 


Barnabetta 

herself  to  his  care,  touching  to  the  quick  the  big  man's 
sense  of  chivalry.  He  was  held,  for  an  instant,  by 
the  appealing  dark  eyes  of  the  girl  who,  in  spite  of 
the  shock  she  had  just  suffered,  was  not  in  the  least 
hysterical,  but  entirely  self-possessed. 

"I  shall  see  to  your  trunk,"  he  bowed.  "Let  me 
take  you,  now,  to  the  college  bus  over  here,"  he 
added,  offering  her  his  arm,  while  he  put  forth  his 
other  brawny  arm  to  dispel  the  crowd — and  instantly 
they  fell  back  to  make  a  path  to  the  edge  of  the  plat 
form. 

As  he  helped  her  into  the  rickety  old  omnibus,  she 
saw  that  at  the  other  end  of  the  platform  Dr.  Barrett 
wras  at  that  moment  assisting  Miss  Jordan  into  Judge 
Jordan's  big  car. 

She  turned  to  the  Judge  as  he  stood  at  the  door  of 
the  bus,  and  taking  a  quarter  from  her  purse  she 
handed  it  to  this  millionaire  of  the  town. 

"What  for?"  he  smiled.    "A  fee?" 

"To  pay  for  my  trunk — we  must  pay  in  advance." 

"Ah,  yes — "  he  hesitated  a  perceptible  instant,  but 
took  it  and  dropped  it  into  his  pocket. 

"I  thank  you  for  helping  me,"  Barnabetta  said, 
holding  out  her  hand  to  him  in  its  clumsy  cotton 
glove. 

He  clasped  it,  bowing  over  it  as  he  lifted  his  hat — 
then  closed  the  door  of  the  bus  and  went  away. 

During  her  drive  out  to  the  college  it  occurred  to 
Barnabetta  to  wonder  why  Dr.  Barrett,  seeing  her 

230 


Her  Return  to  Stevens 

exigency  in  that  crowd  of  ruffians  as  of  course  he  must 
have  done  for  some  minutes  before  Judge  Jordan 
had  come  to  her  help,  had  not  excused  himself  to 
Miss  Jordan  and  hurried  to  protect  her.  Even  his 
absorbing  interest  in  his  "Friend"  did  not  seem  to 
explain  his  leaving  her  to  struggle  alone  with  such  a 
condition.  Not,  at  least,  in  the  light  of  all  her  previ 
ous  knowledge  of  him.  Perhaps  he  had  been  about 
to  come  to  her  when  Judge  Jordan  anticipated 
him? 

But  for  the  first  time  in  Barnabetta's  acquaintance 
with  Dr.  Barrett,  his  sublimity  was  faintly  over 
shadowed  by  the  bigger  figure  of  another  male  creature 
— the  stalwart  frame,  strong  right  arm  and  resolute, 
kindly  face  of  David  Jordan  making  all  other  men 
appear,  for  the  time,  mere  pigmies. 

Jordan,  meantime,  having  attended  to  the  girl's 
baggage,  now  walking  back  slowly  to  his  sister  and 
Barrett,  who  sat  in  his  waiting  car,  found  himself 
struck  by  two  things  which  he  knew  to  be  unusual 
in  his  very  limited  experience  of  girls.  He  did  not 
recall  having  ever  before  assisted  a  girl  in  any  way 
whatsoever  who  had  not  either  blushed  and  ogled 
when  she  thanked  him,  or  else  had  taken  his  help  as 
so  entirely  her  due  as  not  to  consider  any  thanks 
necessary.  This  girl  had  not  blushed  nor  ogled,  and 
she  had  thanked  him  as  a  man  might  have  done — sim 
ply  and  appreciatively.  Her  manner,  her  voice,  her 
young  face,  impressed  him,  somehow,  as  wholly  un- 

231 


Barnabetta 

usual.  They  fired  his  imagination  as  it  had  not  been 
fired  since  the  days  of  his  adolescence. 

Not  only  during  the  rest  of  that  day  did  the  maid 
en's  sweet  image  haunt  and  possess  him.  It  contin 
ued  to  stay  with  him  in  the  days  that  followed.  He 
could  not  escape  it. 

He  was  indeed  startled  when  in  connection  with 
this  haunting  impression,  he  suddenly  came  to  the  re 
alization  that  he  was,  after  all  these  years  of  rigidly 
self-imposed  celibacy,  at  last  growing  restive. 

In  the  ensuing  weeks  he  found  himself  watching 
the  course  of  things  between  Theodora  and  Barrett 
with  an  unacknowledged  hope  in  the  depths  of  his 
heart.  Even  to  himself  his  fraternal  loyalty  hated  to 
admit  that  he  had  reached  the  point  where  he  chafed 
for  his  freedom  from  his  sister. 


232 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

BARRETT'S  QUANDARY 

BARNABETTA  was  sincerely  puzzled  by  Dr.  Bar 
rett's  continued  aloofness  in  the  days,  yes, 
weeks,  that  followed.  He  even  refrained,  it  seemed 
to  her,  from  calling  on  her  frequently  in  class.  And 
yet,  whether  because  of  her  acute  intuition,  or  be 
cause  so  often  while  he  listened  to  another  pupil's 
recitation,  his  eyes  turned  swift,  wary  glances  to 
wards  her,  she  simply  knew,  in  her  inmost  heart,  that 
between  him  and  herself  there  was  a  bond. 

Being  free,  as  a  junior,  to  walk  out  alone,  she  often 
saw  him  in  her  own  long,  solitary  rambles,  strolling 
over  the  country  with  Miss  Jordan.  Barnabetta 
viewed  with  awe  this  lady  who  had  thoughts  worthy 
to  be  published  in  magazines!  How  grand  it  would 
be  to  be  that  fit  for  the  constant  companionship  of  a 
man  like  Dr.  Barrett,  who  would  of  course  be  intol 
erant  of  the  society  (of  so  much  of  it,  at  any  rate)  of 
a  dull,  ignorant  person !  She  herself  had  found  favor 
in  his  eyes,  perhaps,  because  he  had  felt  in  her  what 
she  had  so  marvelously,  if  vaguely,  realized  in  her 
self  this  past  summer — a  certain  power.  But  of 
course  she  was  immeasurably  far  from  being  to  him 

233 


Barnabetta 

what  such  a  woman  as  Miss  Jordan  was.  Why,  Miss 
Jordan  had  actually  gone  to  school  in  Paris  and  Ber 
lin!  Wonderful!  Barnabetta  sighed  with  longing 
to  be  herself  so  equipped  to  interest  her  adored 
teacher.  But  there  was  no  touch  of  jealousy  in  her 
longing.  Hiss  Jordan  received  what  was  her  due 
and  what  Barnabetta  herself  was  unfitted  to  receive. 

She  wondered  especially  over  Dr.  Barrett's  new 
manner  of  reserve,  of  manifest  self-restraint,  when 
now  and  then  she  met  him  privately  in  his  office  to 
discuss  one  of  her  papers.  But  even  on  these  occa 
sions,  though  she  did  sometimes  feel  a  little  hurt  and 
disappointed,  she  was  too  keen  not  to  realize  that  his 
reserve  was  costing  him  an  effort.  Why  he  thought 
it  necessary  she  could  not  imagine. 

He,  on  his  part,  wondered  often  at  the  fact  that 
her  association  with  the  other  students  did  not  lead 
to  her  catching  the  prevalent  infection  of  awe  of  him. 
Nothing  affected  her  perfect  self-possession  in  his 
presence;  her  manner  of  absolute  confidence  in  their 
relation  of  equality,  of  good-fellowship.  His  strug 
gle  to  resist  its  appeal  to  a  relaxation  on  his  own  part 
such  as  he  had  never  experienced  with  any  human 
being;  to  withstand  its  subtle  invitation  to  an  inti 
macy  of  comradeship  that  he  had  never  known  even 
with  fellow  college  students  in  his  boyhood,  was  the 
severest  discipline  he  had  ever  imposed  upon  himself. 

His  feeling  for  Theodora  was  so  vastly  remote  from 
that  which  enticed  him  to  Barnabetta,  holding,  as  it 

234 


Barrett's  Quandary 

did,  poetic  sentiment,  reverence,  a  sense  of  romance; 
yet  never  with  her,  as  with  Barnabetta,  did  his  New 
England  feeling  of  reserve,  of  barrier,  break  down — 
though  the  one  woman  was  his  equal  in  birth,  breed 
ing,  and  education,  and  the  other  so  far  removed  from 
him  in  these  things  that  he  could  only  regard  it  as  a 
mystery  that  his  spirit  should  move  so  freely  to  meet 
completely  her  spirit. 

The  girl's  scholarship  continued  to  be  so  remarka 
ble  as  to  command  the  astonished  respect  of  students 
and  instructors.  There  is  nothing  like  work  to  avert 
morbid  sadness  and  it  was  her  deep  absorption  in 
her  studies,  her  crowded,  busy  hours,  that  probably 
saved  her  from  falling  into  a  pensive  brooding  over 
President  Barrett's  continued  aloofness. 

So,  the  days  flew,  the  Christmas  vacation  came  and 
went,  and  the  second  semester  brought  the  reward  of 
her  labor  in  her  promotion  to  the  senior  class. 

But  her  really  too  arduous  work  was  telling  upon 
her.  Barrett  saw,  with  an  uneasiness  the  keenness  of 
which  secretly  astonished  himself,  how  pale  and  thin 
she  was  growing.  He  delayed  her  one  day  as  she, 
with  her  class,  was  leaving  his  recitation-room. 

"Will  you  stop  a  minute?  I  want  to  speak  with 
you. ' ' 

It  was  not  until  they  were  entirely  alone  that,  seat 
ing  himself  before  her,  crossing  his  long  legs  and 
thrusting  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  coat  as 
though  to  hold  himself  down,  he  addressed  her. 

235 


Barnabetta 

"You  '11  have  to  call  a  halt,  Barnabetta — this  sim 
ply  won't  do." 

It  was  long  since  she  had  heard  him  call  her  thus 
familiarly  by  her  given  name.  In  the  presence  of 
others  he  of  course  never  did  so.  She  knew  there  was 
not  another  student  in  the  school  whom  he  ever  so 
addressed.  That  fact,  with  the  long,  searching  gaze 
in  which  he  vainly  tried  not  to  express  the  pained 
anxiety  he  felt,  but  which  Barnabetta  recognized 
acutely,  brought  a  flush  to  her  pale  cheeks. 

"I  want  to  point  out  to  you,"  he  said,  speaking 
coldly  to  conceal  his  real  feeling,  "how  you  defeat 
your  own  ends  in  overworking  as  you  are  doing. 
You  will  weaken,  instead  of  strengthening,  your  mind. 
Believe  me — quite  apart  from  the  question  of  your 
health,  you  will  lose  mentally  the  very  thing  you  are 
striving  for  so  hard.  Why  this  avid  devouring  of 
text-books  anyway?  It  's  rather  stupid,  you  know. 
You  have  too  much  real  mentality,  too  much  origi 
nality,  to  turn  yourself  into  a  plodder  for  college  hon 
ors.  I  have  no  respect  for  college  honors  myself." 

"But  I  'm  not  working  for  college  honors,  Dr.  Bar 
rett.  I  study  because  I  love  to  know,  to  find  out 
things.  I  never  had  a  chance  before  I  came  here. ' ' 

"Well,  call  a  halt.  Drop  some  of  your  studies. 
You  are  carrying  too  much.  You  '11  gain  by  drop 
ping  a  few  branches.  Do  you  take  your  exercise 
every  day?" 

"Nearly." 

236 


Barrett's  Quandary 

"Nearly  every  day?  You  must  go  out,  rain  or 
shine,  without  fail,  every  day.  I  lay  my  command 
upon  you.  Try  to  remember  if  you  can,"  he  smiled, 
"that  I  am  the  President  of  the  college  and  must  be 
obeyed.  Do  you  sleep  well  ? ' ' 

"Not  very." 

"It  won't  do!"  he  repeated.  "I  can't  have  it. 
Bring  your  schedule  to  me  at  five  o'clock  to-day  and 
I  shall  help  you  eliminate  some  of  your  studies.  Do 
you  understand  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"Very  well."    He  rose  to  dismiss  her. 

"Please  tell  me,"  she  asked,  her  eyes  wide  with 
curiosity  as  she  stood  before  him,  "why,  if  you  care 
for  me  like  this,  you  think  it  so  important  to  pretend 
all  the  time  that  you  don't?  You  can't  hide  it  from 
me  that  you  do  care.  I  can't  see  your  reason  for  pre 
tending.  ' ' 

He  caught  his  lip  between  his  teeth.  That  she 
should  hold  him  up  like  this ! 

"What  do  you  mean  by  caring  for  you,  Barna- 
betta?" 

' '  What  do  I  mean  ?  But  of  course  you  know  what 
I  mean." 

' '  I  would  interfere  in  the  case  of  any  student  I  saw 
damaging  herself,"  he  affirmed  frigidly. 

"But  you  would  not  look  so  worried  about  another. 
Why,"  she  asked  in  genuine  perplexity,  "don't  you 
want  me  to  know  how  friendly  you  really  feel  towards 

237 


Barnabetta 

me?  I  can  understand  hiding  and  fighting  against 
dislike.  But  we  all  need  all  the  affection  any  one  can 
give  us,  don't  you  think  we  do?  Life  is  empty 
enough  of  kindness  and  love.  Why  should  it  ever 
be  hidden  and  repressed  ? ' ' 

"I  value  your  unworldliness  so  much,  my  child, 
that  I  am  averse,  by  any  word  of  mine,  to  educating 
you  into  our  abominable  worldliness.  But  can't  you 
see  that  in  our  relation  of  teacher  and  student,  under 
the  curious  eyes  of  these  swarms  of  silly  maidens, 
anything  but  a  strictly  formal  relation  between  us 
would  cause  uncomfortable  comment,  be  exaggerated, 
misunderstood  ? ' ' 

She  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  "But  would  you 
really  deny  a  good,  true  feeling  of  your  heart  because 
it  might  be  misunderstood  ?  Must  the  few  things  that 
are  worth  something  in  this  life  be  sacrificed  for  the 
worthless?" 

She  was  disapproving  of  him  and  frankly  telling 
him  so !  He  could  scarcely  have  explained  to  himself 
the  peculiar  sense  of  exultation  he  felt  in  the  fact — 
how  he  welcomed  always  any  least  sign  that  she  held 
a  standard  of  life  superior  to  his  own.  Was  it  be 
cause  such  manifestations  seemed  to  bridge  over  the 
social  gulf  that  separated  him  from  her? 

"Barnabetta,"  he  said  earnestly,  "if  I,  heroically 
and  nobly,  lived  up  to  my  high  regard  for  you, — 
well,  either  you  or  I  would  have  to  leave  Stevens! 
When  you  know  more  of  the  world,  dear  child,  you  '11 

238 


Barrett's  Quandary 

understand  that  however  unworthy  our  caution  may 
be,  self-preservation  demands  that  we  be  circumspect. 
It  really  does,  Barnabetta ! ' ' 

' '  Then  I  seem  to  understand  what  the  Bible  means 
when  it  says,  '  He  that  loseth  his  life  shall  find  it. '  ' 

"Martyrdom,  I  Ve  always  thought,  except  for  a 
supremely  important  cause,  is  a  foolish  waste,"  he 
replied. 

There  was  a  knock  on  his  door,  it  opened,  and 
Theodora  Jordan,  in  a  black  velvet  coat  and  beautiful 
furs,  stepped  into  the  room.  Barrett  flushed  deeply 
as  he  turned  to  give  Miss  Jordan  his  hand. 

"At  five  o'clock,  then,"  he  nodded  a  dismissal  to 
Barnabetta. 

Theodora,  not  betraying  her  observation  either  of 
his  conscious  flushing  or  of  the  girl  whose  discovery 
in  his  class-room  seemed  to  occasion  it,  was  yet  thor 
oughly  cognizant  of  both.  It  flashed  upon  her,  as  she 
took  the  chair  which  Dr.  Barrett  placed  for  her  and 
sent  a  curious,  cautious  glance  after  the  figure  moving 
out  of  the  room,  that  this  student's  peculiar  walk  was 
familiar  to  her — and  she  suddenly  remembered  wrhere 
she  had  seen  it  before ;  it  was  on  the  day  of  her  return 
to  Middleton  last  September  when  Dr.  Barrett,  who 
had  met  her  at  the  station,  had  flushed  so  unaccount 
ably  as  he  had  lifted  his  hat  to  this  very  same  young 
woman. 

But  Miss  Jordan's  perfect  composure  as  she  sat  with 
him  now  and  discussed  the  poem  she  had  brought  for 

239 


Barnabetta 

his  criticism  before  submitting  it  to  the  literary  peri 
odical  which  highly  valued  her  work,  did  not  by  the 
quiver  of  an  eyelash  betray  the  fact  that  Barnabetta 
Dreary  had  suddenly  become  for  her  a  factor  to  be 
reckoned  with.  When  Theodora  Jordan  recognized 
an  obstacle  in  her  path,  it  never  long  remained  there. 


240 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  FUNERAL 

IT  was  just  before  the  spring  vacation  that  the 
sudden  death  of  Barnabetta's  father  called  her 
home. 

A  few  days  after  her  departure  Barrett  found  in 
his  morning's  mail  a  marked  newspaper  containing 
an  obituary  in  which  he  was  sure  he  recognized  the 
literary  style  of  the  letter  he  had  received  more  than 
a  year  ago  from  Barnabetta's  stepmother. 

"MR.  BARNABY  DREARY 

"Reinhartz,  March .     Sad  indeed  and  shocking 

was  the  gloomy  intelligence  that  Mr.  Barnaby  Dreary 
was  removed  from  the  family  on  last  Thursday  night. 
This  sadness  is  the  social-tie  view-point,  and  a  sorrow 
it  is  from  which  none  of  us  wish  to  be  divorced. 

"The  joyous  phase  of  his  demise  is  the  hope  that 
he  cherished  of  a  blissful  immortality,  for  he  winged 
to  those  by  his  bedside  the  consoling  sentence,  'It  is 
well  with  my  soul. ' 

"For  some  time  he  had  been  suffering  with  grippe, 
but  the  very  sudden  death  was  due  to  the  going  into 
the  valley  of  death  through  the  gateway  of  Double 
Pneumonia. 

241 


Barnabetta 

"Mr.  Dreary  was  the  son  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sam 
Dreary  of  Ephrata.  About  two  years  ago  he  came 
to  Hymen's  Altar,  but  the  Ruthless  Reaper  cut  short 
this  brief  and  happy  married  life.  He  is  survived  by 
a  sorrowing  widow,  two  stricken  sons  and  a  grieved 
daughter." 

(No  mention  being  made  of  a  previous  marriage, 
this  statement  was  the  more  remarkable.) 

The  obituary  continued: — "Funeral  services  were 
held  in  the  Evangelical  Church  Sunday  P.  M.  Rev. 
Miller  of  the  Ephrata  church  assisted  by  Rev.  Kurtz 
officiated. 

"Both  ministers  preached  appropriate  sermons. 
The  text  was :  '  His  sun  went  down  while  it  was  yet 
day.'  The  choir  sang  three  well-chosen  selections. 
The  funeral  was  the  most  largely  attended  one  since 
those  of  Dr.  Oberholzer  and  Harry  Tshudy.  The 
streets  of  Reinhartz  were  lined  with  teams.  Some 
think  there  were  two  hundred  teams  in  town. 

"Mr.  Dreary  reached  his  fifty-seventh  milestone. 
Surely  here  the  Reaper  Death,  'with  his  sickle  keen,' 
has  reaped  one  just  in  life's  buoyant  period,  with 
pleasant  and  hopeful  anticipations. 

"May  he  LIVE  in  the  good  Morning  Land,  and 
fully  enjoy  the  full  fragrance  of  the  Rose  of  Sharon, 
and  the  purity  of  the  Lily  of  the  Valley." 

A  month  after  her  father's  death  found  Barnabetta 
and  her  widowed  stepmother  living  together  in  a 

242 


A  Funeral 

pretty  little  cottage  in  the  outskirts  of  Middleton. 
Her  brother  Emanuel  had  settled  his  problem  by  mar 
rying  precipitately  to  secure  a  housekeeper  and  Jacob, 
who,  in  spite  of  his  fine  buggy,  had  some  time  ago 
been  "turned  down"  by  Suse  Darmstetter,  went  to 
board  with  Emanuel  and  his  bride. 

It  was  found  that  Barnaby  Dreary  had  had  much 
more  "laid  by"  than  any  one  had  dreamed;  so  that 
the  easy  and  immediate  settling  of  his  estate  left  his 
widow  and  daughter  very  comfortably  off,  considering 
their  extremely  simple  needs. 

The  natural  refinement  of  Barnabetta's  face  was 
much  enhanced  by  the  mourning  her  stepmother  in 
sisted  upon  her  wearing.  She  was  not  a  beautiful 
girl,  but  there  was  a  nun-like  purity,  a  lovely  woman 
liness  in  the  pale  countenance  above  the  soft  black 
of  her  gown  that  was  infinitely  more  attractive  than 
a  physical  perfection  which  expressed  nothing  of  the 
soul. 

Mrs.  Dreary,  strolling  forth  one  day  from  her  cot 
tage  to  meet  Barnabetta  on  her  way  home  from  college, 
chanced  to  encounter  President  Barrett  walking  in 
the  grounds,  and  recognizing  him,  deliberately  joined 
him  and  introduced  herself;  and  in  answer  to  his 
startled  surprise,  to  which  she  gave  her  own  inter 
pretation,  she  promptly  explained,  as  she  strolled  at 
his  side,  dressed  in  a  gay  new  spring  frock  of  pale 
lavender,  why  she  was  not  wearing  mourning. 

"Colors  are  so  much  more  becoming  to  me  and  it 
243 


Barnabetta 

isn't  as  if  Mr.  Dreary  was  my  blood  relation,  Presi 
dent  Barrett.  Of  course  it  is  different  with  Barna 
betta.  Anyway,  Mr.  Dreary  would  not  appreciate 
my  wearing  black  for  him,  being  so  opposed  to  ex 
penditure  for  clothing.  So  I  got  myself  this  new 
spring  lavender  dress  instead. ' ' 

"Yes?"  responded  Barrett  with  an  amused  glance 
at  the  dark,  wrinkled  face  above  the  grotesquely 
youthful  gown.  "Your  husband's  death,"  he  added, 
"was  very  sudden  and  unexpected,  I  understand? 
I  hope  the  shock  to  Barnabetta  is  not  going  to  upset 
her  physically — she  is  already  exhausted  nervously 
from  overstudy.  I  trust,  Mrs.  Dreary,  you  will  dis 
courage  her  from  working  too  much — especially  after 
this — this  bereavement  that  has  befallen  you." 

"Shock,  rather  than  bereavement,  President.  My 
own  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Dreary  has  been  of  too 
brief  duration  for  me  to  have  grown  accustomed  to 
him,  so  I  shall  not  greatly  miss  him.  To  be  sure,  if 
he  had  died  next  spring  instead  of  this  one,  it  would 
have  suited  me  better,  for  Barnabetta  would  then 
have  finished  her  education.  However,  his  death 
can't  rob  me  of  being  a  Mrs.  He  can't  take  that 
from  me.  And  as  for  Barnabetta — well,  the  child  is 
greatly  upset  by  the  newness,  the  unexpectedness, 
of  it.  But  bereaved?  No,  President.  Not  be 
reaved.  ' ' 

"Her  own  father?"  he  put  out  tentatively. 

"In  name,  but  not  in  deed.  However!"  She 
244 


A  Funeral 

waved  her  hand  in  dramatic  dismissal  of  an  unseemly 
theme.  "How  beautiful  it  is  here!"  she  exclaimed, 
indicating  the  grand  old  trees  of  the  campus.  "I  do 
like  to  live  amongst  Nature.  Don't  you,  President 
Barrett?" 

"This  is  a  very  attractive  campus,  certainly." 

"I  love  Nature  because  mere  man  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it." 

"  'Mere  man'  is  not  included  in  your  category  of 
things  to  be  thankful  for,  then?" 

"By  no  means,  President  Barrett.  I  think  your 
sex  greatly  overrated, — though  of  course  there  are 
exceptions,"  she  graciously  conceded.  "Barnabetta 
speaks  very  well  of  you,  for  instance.  I  think  of 
taking  her  to  Europe  this  summer." 

"Ah!" 

"Yes.  To  complete  her  education — though  I  my 
self  do  not  greatly  care  to  go  to  the  old  countries 
where  they  still  retain  what  I  so  strongly  disapprove 
of — kings  and  queens  and  a  titled  nobility ! ' ' 

"My  impression  is,  Mrs.  Dreary,  that  American 
tourists  are  not  apt  to  be  molested  by  European  roy 
alty  and  the  titled  nobility." 

"I  am  certainly  glad  to  hear  it,  for  no  doubt  if  I 
met  up  with  any  of  them,  I  should  frankly  express 
my  opinions  and  affront  them." 

"Which  would  be  a  pity,  would  n't  it? — seeing  that 
they  are,  in  these  days,  through  no  fault  of  their 
own,  such  a  discredited  class." 

245 


Barnabetta 

"Discredited  because  discreditable,"  pronounced 
Mrs.  Dreary. 

"Barnabetta  does  want  to  go  abroad,  I  sup 
pose?  She  isn't  nervous  about  affronting  the  aris 
tocracy  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  the  bare  thought  of  going  makes  her  almost 
swoon  with  delight!" 

"Mrs.  Dreary*"  he  reverted  abruptly  to  what  was 
troubling  him,  "you  do  appreciate,  don't  you,  the  im 
portance  of  not  allowing  your  daughter  to  work  too 
hard  during  the  remainder  of  this  term?" 

"It  is  nice  of  you  to  take  such  a  fatherly  interest 
in  your  pupils,  President1— mere  young  man  that  you 
are  yourself." 

"We  all  take  an  interest  in  Barnabetta,  she  has 
been  such  a  wonderful  little  student." 

"I  confess  I  am  very  proud  of  my  daughter,  Presi 
dent  Barrett." 

"You  have  reason  to  be,  Mrs.  Dreary.  She  has 
told  me  how  much  she  owes  to  you. ' ' 

' '  She  owes  me  naught — she  has  so  amply  repaid  me 
in  her  beautiful  daughter liness !  Ah,  here  comes  the 
dear  child  now!" 

"Then  I  will  bid  you  good-afternoon,"  Barrett 
hastily  said,  bowing  ceremoniously  and  moving  off  in 
another  direction,  as  he  caught  sight  of  Barnabetta 's 
black-robed  figure  coming  towards  them  in  the  path. 

He  felt  he  did  not  want  to  subject  the  child  to  the 
embarrassment  of  her  mother's  unique  conversation 

246 


A  Funeral 

with  himself;  for  Barnabetta  had  by  now  developed 
to  the  point,  he  felt  sure,  where  she  must  be  embar 
rassed  by  such  a  relative. 

But  he  did  not  realize  how  the  utter  loyalty  of  Bar 
nabetta 's  simple  heart  made  her  incapable  of  the 
selfishness,  and  perhaps  the  littleness,  of  such  em 
barrassment. 


247 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

MRS.   WINTHROP 'S   TROUBLED  REFLECTIONS 

MRS.  WINTHROP,  in  a  flowing  chamber-robe, 
sat  before  a  wood-fire  in  her  bedroom,  late 
one  night,  after  having  entertained  Theodora  and 
David  Jordan  at  dinner — and  the  troubled  thoughts 
which  contracted  her  brow  and  compressed  her  lips 
were  the  outcome  of  the  evening's  experience. 

That  a  man  and  woman  could  talk  together  in  the 
flagrantly  soulful  way  that  Theodora  and  Edgar  ad 
dressed  each  other,  and  the  man  not  feel  bound 
in  honor  to  follow  up  such  remarks  with  an  im 
mediate  offer  of  his  life's  devotion — well,  she  could 
not  see  how  Edgar  justified  himself.  To  lead  a  girl 
on  to  say  to  him  the  sort  of  things  he  permitted  Theo 
dora  to  say — if  it  was  not  open  love-making,  involving 
obligations,  Mrs.  "Winthrop  would  like  to  know  what 
you  would  call  it !  Why,  the  very  expressions  Theo 
dora  used  would  not  be  employed  in  ordinary  con 
versation.  And  Edgar's  complacent  acceptance  of 
such  expressions  certainly  implicated  him  beyond  any 
honorable  withdrawal.  Theodora  had  informed  him, 
this  evening,  in  effect  (unless  Mrs.  Winthrop  had 
grossly  misunderstood  her  style  of  speech)  that  his 

248 


Mrs.  Winthrop's  Troubled  Reflections 

friendship  was  to  her  "one  of  great  uplift";  that  it 
had  the  same  buoyant  effect  upon  her  as  had  "God's- 
out-of -doors ' ' ;  that  in  ' '  the  stress  of  our  modern  life ' ' 
such  communion  as  theirs  was  "like  a  benediction." 
Now,  how  could  a  decent  man  receive  such  shameless 
gush  (Mrs.  Winthrop's  word  was  slush)  and  not  pro 
pose?  And  that  he  loved  it,  you  need  only  look  at 
his  beaming  countenance  to  know.  What,  then,  held 
him  back? 

A  fearful  dread  gripped  her  heart.  It  had  been 
with  her  for  two  weeks,  growing  greater  with  every 
day's  developments.  It  had  started  with  her  sur 
prising  her  brother  one  afternoon  in  his  class-room, 
after  college  hours,  in  the  act  of  laughing  in  the  most 
amazingly  familiar  way  (for  him  at  least)  with  one 
of  the  students.  It  was  such  a  rare  thing  to  hear  him 
laugh  at  all — but  to  hear  him  laugh  familiarly,  boy 
ishly,  and  with  one  of  his  students!  Mrs.  Winthrop 
had  inspected  the  young  lady  keenly  as,  upon  her 
own  entrance,  the  girl  promptly  left  the  room — and 
she  had  seen  a  graceful,  madonna-faced,  intelligent- 
looking  maiden  in  mourning,  her  clothes  of  village 
cut  and  material.  Edgar's  self-conscious  flushing  up 
at  his  sister's  interruption,  his  failure  to  explain  his 
unusual  attitude  towards  this  student,  had  instantly 
roused  her  suspicions. 

Of  course  she  did  not  take  the  liberty  of  questioning 
him.  She  would  not  have  dared  to  do  so,  even  if  her 
native  reserve  had  not  prohibited  such  an  imperti- 

249 


Barnabetta 

nence.  But  she  had  at  once  set  herself  to  discovering 
what  she  could  about  the  girl,  and  had  learned  that 
she  was  living  with  her  mother  in  Middleton  and  had, 
in  a  year  and  a  half  at  college,  earned  the  valedictory 
of  this  year's  graduating  class. 

Then,  at  dinner  to-night  her  heart  had  leapt  into 
her  throat  upon  hearing  Edgar  name  this  same  young 
student  to  Judge  Jordan  (who  was  the  President  of 
the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Stevens  College)  as  a  suit 
able  candidate  for  the  position,  when  college  re 
opened  in  the  autumn,  of  librarian  of  the  college. 

"You  '11  not  find  a  trained  librarian,  Judge,  who 
knows  more  about  the  books  on  our  library  shelves 
than  Miss  Dreary  knows.  She  's  an  avaricious 
reader.  I  shall  recommend  her  to  the  trustees  as  my 
choice  for  the  place — but  I  wanted  to  recommend  her 
to  you  particularly,  beforehand." 

"You  know,  of  course,  Barrett,  that  your  recom 
mendation  to  the  Board  gives  her  the  place." 

"I  suppose  so.  But  on  the  bare  chance  that  there 
might  be  another  candidate,  I  thought  I  'd  better 
speak  to  you.  I  don't  want  any  one  else  appointed, 
Judge." 

"I  shall  take  care  of  it,  Barrett." 

"Thank  you." 

"I  trust  the  daughter  is  an  improvement  upon 
the  mother?"  Jordaa  inquired,  to  Barrett's  sur 
prise. 

"You  have  met  the  mother?"  he  quickly  asked. 
250 


Mrs.  Winthrop's  Troubled  Reflections 

"Yes,  but  not  the  daughter.  They  rent  a  cottage 
from  me.  The  mother  's  an  extraordinary  fool!  To 
be  sure,  in  these  days,  that  would  not  prevent  the 
daughter  from  being  both  a  lady  and  a  scholar ! ' ' 

"She  's  Barnabetta's  stepmother." 

"Whose?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Winthrop.  "What  a 
name ! ' ' 

She  was  deeply  shaken  to  hear  him  refer  to  the 
girl  thus  familiarly  by  her  given  name — it  suggested 
an  alarming  relation  between  them. 

' '  And, ' '  added  Barrett  quietly,  his  face  grown  pale, 
' '  grotesque  as  Mrs.  Dreary  may  be,  Judge  Jordan,  she 
is  a  woman  of  whom  I  would  say,  as  Mrs.  Browning 
said  of  Napoleon — since  she  has  the  genius  to  be 
loved,  let  her  have  the  justice  to  be  honored.  Her 
daughter  is  devoted  to  her!" 

' '  '  Barnabetta  Dreary ' ! "  Theodora  softly  repeated, 
smiling.  "Weird,  isn't  it?  But,  Edgar,"  she 
mildly  suggested,  "doesn't  the  applicant  for  the 
librarian's  position  here  have  to  be  a  trained  libra 
rian?" 

"It  isn't  compulsory." 

"If  it  is  advisable,"  said  Judge  Jordan,  "the  girl 
could  spend  July  and  August  at  a  summer  school  for 
librarians. ' ' 

"No,"  said  Barrett,  "she  couldn't.  She  is  in  need 
of  rest;  she  has  been  working  too  hard;  she  's  vale 
dictorian,  you  may  have  heard.  Her  stepmother 
takes  her  to  Europe  a  month  after  Commencement. 

251 


Barnabetta 

That  will  equip  her  better  in  mind  and  health  than 
a  summer  school  for  librarians  would  do." 

Theodora  sipped  her  wine  and  was  silent.  Mrs. 
Winthrop  wondered,  in  consternation,  whether  her 
brother  and  this  girl  with  the  grotesque  name  had 
fixed  it  up  between  them  that  her  graduation  should 
not  permanently  separate  them;  that  he  would  be 
speak  for  her  the  easy,  good-paying  position  of  libra 
rian  which  should  keep  her  here  at  Middleton. 

' '  The  young  lady  asked  you  to  recommend  her,  did 
she,  Edgar?"  she  casually  inquired. 

"No." 

"You  suggested  it  to  her?" 

"I  have  not  yet,  but  I  am  going  to." 

"But  why  do  you  recommend  her  to  Judge  Jordan 
before  you  ask  her  whether  she  wants  the  place  ? ' ' 

"It  is  rather  putting  the  cart  before  the  horse, 
isn't  it?  Do  you  know,"  he  turned  to  Theodora, 
"your  sonnet  looks  even  better  to  me  in  the  Monthly 
than  it  did  in  manuscript." 

"It  is  the  finest  thing  she  has  ever  written!"  ex 
claimed  the  proud  brother  of  the  poetess. 

"Which  is  poor,  dear  David's  opinion  of  every 
thing  I  write,"  remarked  Theodora,  snubbing  his 
opinion  as  she  always  did,  even  when  it  was  a  com 
pliment  to  her  own  work. 

Mrs.  Winthrop  had  not,  after  that,  been  able  to 
bring  the  talk  back  to  the  subject  of  Miss  Dreary. 

"I  suppose,"  she  meditated  as  she  sat  before  her 
252 


Mrs.  Winthrop's  Troubled  Reflections 

bedroom  fire,  "it  is  only  my  anxiety  for  Edgar  that 
makes  me  see  anything  in  the  least  suspicious  in  these 
trifling  circumstances.  They  probably  don't  indicate 
anything. ' ' 

Meantime,  Edgar,  returning  in  the  spring  night 
from  walking  home  with  the  Jordans,  was  wondering 
whether  he  had  gone  too  far  in  recommending  Barna- 
betta  for  librarian  without  first  consulting  her.  The 
purpose  to  do  so  had  possessed  him  ever  since  a  talk 
he  had  had  with  her  a  week  ago  in  which  the  sense 
of  blankness  that  had  come  upon  him  at  hearing  her 
statement  that  she  and  her  mother  would  perhaps 
remain  in  Paris  for  a  year  to  learn  together  the 
French  language,  had  revealed  to  him  how  loth  he  was 
to  have  her  go  so  far  out  of  his  life.  "What  warrant 
had  he  for  assuming  that  she  would  consent  to  give 
up  a  year  in  Paris  for  a  position  as  librarian  in  Mid- 
dleton?  He  knew  she  did  not  need  the  salary,  for 
limited  as  her  means  evidently  were,  they  were  abun 
dant  for  her  absurdly  simple  needs.  So,  at  least,  she 
had  assured  him  in  reply  to  his  inquiry  as  to  what 
she  meant  to  do  upon  leaving  college. 

"I  had  supposed  you  would  remain  in  your  little 
cottage  here  in  Middleton,"  he  had  suggested. 

"No;  we  took  the  cottage  only  so  that  Mama  could 
be  with  me  until  Commencement." 

"You  are  not  going  back  to  Reinhartz  to  live?" 

"No.  My  brother  Jacob  did  think  I  would  of 
course  stay  at  home  and  keep  house  for  him — I  can't 

253 


Barnabetta 

tell  you  how  astonished  he  was  when  he  learned  that 
I  would  not  dream  of  doing  that. ' ' 

"It  would  be  too  great  a  sacrifice?"  Barrett  had 
dubiously  inquired. 

"Yes." 

' '  But  my  sister  made  just  such  a  sacrifice  in  coming 
here  to  take  care  of  my  house.  Are  you,  perhaps, 
Barnabetta,"  he  asked  half  playfully,  "not  strong  in 
the  domestic  affections,  unsisterly?  It  has  not  been 
my  idea  of  you,  you  know." 

"I  can  see,"  she  answered  gravely,  "how  a  sister 
would  lay  down  her  life  for  a  brother  like  you,  and 
count  it  nothing.  But  there  are  some  kinds  of  self- 
sacrifice  that  are  not  reasonable,  even  weak-minded, 
and  that  don't  do  the  least  good  to  the  person  you 
make  the  sacrifice  for.  All  my  life,  until  Mama 
came  to  us,  I  sacrificed  myself  like  that;  but,"  she 
announced  quietly,  "I  shall  never  do  it  again.  I 
harmed  those  I  sacrificed  myself  for.  I  know  that 
Jacob  will  be  a  better  man  and,  if  he  marries,  a  better 
husband,  because  I  refused  to  give  myself  up,  body 
and  soul,  that  he  might  be  taken  care  of — without,  on 
his  part,  the  least  obligation  to  take  any  care  of  me." 

"You  reason  it  out  like  a  modern,  clear-headed,  en 
tirely  unsentimental  Suffragist,  Barnabetta ! ' ' 

"Jacob  would  not  appreciate  the  sentimental  side 
of  a  sisterly  sacrifice.  He  took  it  as  a  matter-of-course 
that  I  would  now  attend  to  my  natural  duty  and  stop 
at  home  to  keep  house  for  him.  He  was  dumb- 

254 


Mrs.  Winthrop's  Troubled  Reflections 

founded  when  he  learned  that  I  would  not  think  of 
it/' 

"My  dear  child,  it  would  seem  to  me  to  be  your 
natural  duty — to  make  a  home  for  your  brother." 

"If  he  felt  an  equal  obligation  to  make  a  home  for 
me.  You  could  not  understand,  Dr.  Barrett,  how  my 
brothers  have  always  looked  upon  me — you  with  your 
tender,  devoted  chivalry  to  your  sister,  to  Miss  Jor 
dan,  to  me,  to  any  woman  you  have  a  regard  for. 
You  don't  know  anything  about  using  women  for 
your  own  comfort  and  convenience — as  the  Indians 
used  their  squaws ! ' ' 

There  was  no  bitterness  in  her  tone;  she  was  only 
quietly  explaining  to  him  how  it  had  been,  and  was, 
with  her. 

"I  can  understand,  too,"  she  added  unexpectedly, 
"how  happy  Miss  Jordan  would  be  in  doing  every 
thing  for  her  splendid-looking  brother." 

"Ah?"  commented  Barrett  drily,  "  'splendid-look 
ing'?  You  think  so?  Rather  too  heavy  for  that." 

"But  he  looks  as  though  his  mind  and  heart  were 
as  big  as  his  frame !  I  think  he  has  the  kindest  face 
I  ever  saw.  And  do  you  know  nothing  in  this  world 
seems  to  me  better  than  that — just  kindness  ? ' ' 

' '  Jordan  's  a  bit  boorish,  however, ' '  Barrett  had  re 
sponded  in  a  bored  tone. 

' '  Boorish  ?    What  is  a  boor  ? ' ' 

"Don't  you  know?" 

"Not  if  Judge  Jordan  is  boorish." 
255 


Barnabetta 

"Ah?  You  have  in  mind,  I  suppose,  the  time  he 
took  care  of  you  at  the  station? — just  getting  in 
ahead  of  me  as  I  was  about  to  come  to  you,  Barna 
betta!" 

"Yes?" 

"He  is,  of  course,  a  gentleman,"  Barrett  had 
shrugged. 

"I  am  sure  he  is." 

Barrett  had  parted  from  her  with  two  haunting 
thoughts — her  impending  departure  from  Middleton 
and  her  reference  to  his  own  "tender,  devoted  chiv 
alry"  to  herself!  Quaint,  ingenuous  Barnabetta! 

To-night,  walking  home  in  the  soft  spring  air  from 
the  Jordans',  he  realized  how  deep  was  his  desire  that 
she  should  accept  the  position  he  would  suggest  to 
her. 


256 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THEODORA  ACTS 

BUT  in  that  very  hour  when  Barrett  was  realiz 
ing  how  greatly  he  hoped  Barnabetta  would 
consent  to  come  back  to  Stevens  College  in  the  fall, 
Theodora  Jordan,  lingering  in  the  library  of  her 
home  with  her  brother  after  Barrett  had  left  them, 
was  pointing  out  to  Judge  Jordan  that  he  must  not, 
on  any  account,  make  the  mistake  of  permitting  Miss 
Dreary  to  receive  the  appointment  for  which  Dr. 
Barrett  so  thoughtlessly  commended  her. 

"We  must  have  a  trained  librarian,  David,"  she 
pronounced,  in  the  conclusive  way  which  always 
blocked  any  objections,  not  only  from  David,  but  from 
most  people  with  whom  she  dealt.  Perhaps  no  one 
in  Middleton,  least  of  all  Judge  Jordan,  knew  that 
for  years  no  teacher  had  been  elected  to  the  Faculty 
of  Stevens  College,  nor  been  retained  there,  except 
at  the  will  of  the  gracious,  exquisite  sister  of  the 
President  of  the  Board  of  Trustees.  There  was  no 
one,  either  in  the  town  or  in  the  college,  who  did  not 
admire  her  disinterested  public  spirit.  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  alone  (and  she  was  of  course  an  outsider)  real 
ized  the  power  Miss  Jordan  wielded. 

257 


Barnabetta 

"The  librarian  we  've  had  is  not  a  trained  one," 
David  suggested,  not  argumentatively,  but  merely 
as  inviting  his  sister  to  give  reasons  for  her  man 
date. 

"I  know  it,"  Theodora  lamented,  "and  I  was  so 
glad,  because  of  that  fact,  to  hear  she  had  resigned. 
We  must  not  again  commit  the  error  of  showing  our 
selves  so  behind  the  times  as  to  elect  another  untrained 
one." 

"I  wonder  why  Barrett  recommends  her,  dear,  if 
she  is  not  a  suitable  candidate?" 

"His  kindly  desire  to  help  a  very  worthy  young 
girl.  But  we  shall  have  to  find  her  another  place. 
I  can  easily  get  her  a  position  in  Boston  as  nursery 
governess." 

"Nursery  governess?     One  of  our  graduates?" 

"Our  dear  Stevens  College,  David,  is  of  course 
merely  a  high-grade  girls'  school.  You  know  that 
our  diploma  admits  only  to  the  senior  class  of  the  real 
colleges.  And  this  Miss  Dreary,  I  understand,  is  a 
common  little  Pennsylvania  Dutch  country  girl — an 
other  strong  reason  against  her  being  elected  to  the 
Faculty  of  Stevens — for  the  librarian,  you  know,  is  a 
member  of  the  Faculty.  I  should  think  the  other 
ladies  on  our  Faculty  would  quite  resent  her  meeting 
with  them  on  terms  of  equality." 

"Very  few  of  them,  Theo,  dear,  are  'ladies'  in  your 
sense. ' ' 

"But  none  of  them  are  of  quite  such  humble  rank 
25$ 


Theodora  Acts 

as  this  Barnabetta  Dreary.  Did  you  ever  hear  such 
a  name!" 

"What  can  Barrett  be  thinking1  of?"  said  Jordan. 
"He  usually  has  his  wits  about  him  in  his  manage 
ment  of  things  at  Stevens.  And,  my  dear,  believe 
me,  the  man  is,  at  heart,  such  an  insufferable  snob 
that  I  can't  understand  his  partiality  to  this  girl  if 
she  is  the  sort  of  person  you  think  her.  There  's  a 
mistake  somewhere." 

"No,  there  is  no  mistake,"  returned  Theodora 
firmly.  ' '  Give  me  credit,  David,  for  usually  knowing 
whereof  I  speak.  The  girl  must  not  receive  the  ap 
pointment.  ' ' 

"But  she  will  receive  it,  you  know,  if  Barrett  rec 
ommends  her." 

"Not  if  you  have  another  candidate  (and  I  shall 
look  one  up  for  you)  who  is  a  regularly  trained  libra 
rian.  You  can  speak  to  Edgar  about  it  and  tell  him 
you  can't  conscientiously  recommend  his  candidate 
and  that  he  would  better  not  present  her  name." 

"Very  well,  dear,  if  you  think  so." 

"I  do  think  so.     Good-night,  David." 

She  strolled,  with  her  easy  grace,  over  to  his  chair 
by  the  fire  and  offered  her  cheek  for  his  kiss. 

And  the  big  man  was  incapable  of  conceiving  that 
his  incomparable  sister,  whose  favor  must  honor  the 
most  exalted  of  men,  was  stooping  to  stratagem  to 
displace  a  possible  rival. 

But  Theodora  was  also  incapable  of  conceiving  such 
259 


Barnabetta 

a  thing  of  herself.  She  had  preeminently  the  gift  of 
self-deception — a  faculty  for  twisting  facts,  or  for 
reasoning  around  a  fact,  to  fit  her  desires,  that 
amounted  to  genius.  She  had  quite  succeeded  in 
persuading  herself  that  her  objections  to  Miss  Dreary 
were  wholly  due  to  her  unselfish  interest  in  the  wel 
fare  of  Stevens  College,  and  to  her  sudden  realization 
that  a  trained  librarian  was  absolutely  essential  to 
the  reputation  and  the  well-being  of  Middleton's  be 
loved  institution  of  learning. 


260 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

COMMENCEMENT   DAY 

THE  election  of  the  new  librarian,  among  other 
business,  was  to  take  place  at  a  meeting  of  the 
Board  of  Trustees  during  the  week  following  the 
graduation  exercises. 

It  was  at  these  graduation  exercises  that  Judge 
Jordan  met  the  candidate  so  objectionable  to  Theo 
dora.  His  position  on  the  Board  and  as  Middleton's 
foremost  citizen  obliged  him  to  be  present  at  the 
Commencement,  seated  on  the  platform — an  obligation 
which,  being  a  man  of  some  brains,  he  found  infinitely 
soporific,  especially  as,  unlike  the  usual  big  man  of 
a  small  town,  he  was  not  at  all  fond  of  figuring  large 
before  his  petty  public. 

He  had  postponed  the  unpleasant  duty  of  inform 
ing  Barrett  that  he  must  not  present  Miss  Dreary's 
name  to  the  Board,  though  he  knew  he  ought  to  have 
spoken  to  him  of  the  matter  long  before  this.  But 
he  disliked  exceedingly  dictating  to  the  College  Pres 
ident  how  to  manage  his  own  ''job."  Though  Theo 
dora  had  quite  persuaded  him  to  her  own  view  and 
had  presented  him  with  the  name  and  address  of  an 
other  suitable  candidate,  it  did  seem  to  him  a  bit  like 

261 


Barnabetta 

an  impertinent  interference  into  Barrett's  own  prov 
ince.  Still,  it  must  be  done,  for  he  had  promised 
Theo  that  he  would  speak  to  Edgar  immediately 
after  this  morning's  ordeal. 

While  the  graduates  delivered  themselves  of  their 
orations  or  essays,  Jordan  occupied  himself  in  gazing 
down  fondly  from  his  high  place  on  the  platform  of 
the  auditorium  upon  his  beloved  sister  sitting  with 
Mrs.  Winthrop  in  the  audience.  And  when  at  length 
the  valedictorian,  Miss  Dreary,  stepped  forth  to  the 
front  of  the  stage  to  speak  her  little  speech,  it  was 
with"  but  a  faint  interest  that  he  glanced  at  her.  But 
his  attention  was  instantly  caught  and  held — first,  by 
the  girl 's  appearance ;  she  was  not  the  ' '  common  little 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  country  girl"  he  was  prepared 
to  see.  Tall  and  slim,  dressed  all  in  white,  and  wear 
ing  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  dainty  slippers,  silk 
hose  and  long  white  kid  gloves  (in  which  latter,  to 
tell  the  truth,  Barnabetta  felt  most  elegant)  she 
looked  so  far  from  common  or  countrified,  but  on  the 
contrary  so  lovely  and  so  distinguished,  that  Jordan 
glanced  at  the  program  to  make  sure  he  was  not 
mistaken  in  her  identity. 

Not  noticing  that  President  Barrett,  seated  at  his 
side,  was  gazing  at  the  young  figure  in  white  with  fire 
in  his  eyes  and  tensely  compressed  lips,  he  nudged  him 
and  asked,  "Is  that  your  Barnabetta  Dreary?" 

Barrett,  not  taking  his  eyes  from  the  girl,  nodded 
curtly. 

262 


Commencement  Day 

The  maiden's  voice,  falling  upon  the  stillness, 
thrilled  the  Judge  with  its  peculiarly  poignant  sweet 
ness  and  with  the  sudden  realization  that  he  had  heard 
that  voice  before;  not  only  in  reality,  but  in  his 
dreams.  And  then  suddenly  he  recognized  her. 
Her  clothing  and  the  absence  of  a  hat  had,  for  the 
moment,  held  him  off.  She  was  the  girl  he  had  res 
cued  from  that  mob  of  students  at  the  station! 

The  discovery  came  to  him  with  such  a  sharp  thrill 
that  he  sank  back  in  his  chair  limp  with  astonishment. 

He  had  not  meant,  as  he  sat  on  that  platform,  to 
be  guilty  of  the  imbecility  of  seriously  listening  to 
one  of  these  girlish  effusions  called  "essays,"  but 
while  yielding  himself  to  the  spell  of  that  penetrat 
ingly  feminine  voice,  he  again  found  himself,  all  at 
once,  sitting  up  sharply  to  catch  her  surprising  words. 

"Paternalism"  was  her  theme  and  she  was  holding 
up  an  ideal  of  government  in  which  the  State  should 
be  a  fostering  parent  to  all  her  sons  and  daughters 
alike,  without  partiality.  But  it  was  the  manner  of 
the  girl's  speech — her  beribboned  paper  hanging  un 
heeded  at  her  side  while,  her  eyes  sparkling,  her  face 
flushed,  her  young  bosom  heaving  with  her  burning 
earnestness  in  what  she  had  to  say,  she  spoke  forth 
into  the  sea  of  faces  before  her  like  a  young  prophet 
ess.  Jordan  saw  that  it  came  with  a  shock  to  the 
audience,  accustomed  to  the  perfunctory,  conventional 
delivery  of  the  usual  graduate. 

Barrett,  sitting  far  back  in  his  chair,  clutched  the 
263 


Barnabetta 

arms  of  it  until  his  knuckles  showed  white.  He  had 
not  dreamed  that  Barnabetta  was  going  to  distinguish 
herself  like  this.  The  editing  of  the  graduation  essays 
had  been  left  entirely  to  the  assistant  instructor  of 
his  department.  '  His  feelings,  as  he  heard  the  girl, 
were  a  strange  mingling  of  chagrin  and  pride — cha 
grin  at  the  unconventional  conspicuousness  of  her 
vital  delivery  and  radical,  nay,  revolutionary,  senti 
ments;  and  pride  in  her  equally  conspicuous  ability 
and  charm. 

But  Jordan,  leaning  forward  with  tense  attention, 
triumphed  unqualifiedly  in  the  maiden's  fearless, 
astonishing  utterances,  so  entirely  in  harmony  with 
his  own  strong  convictions.  The  domestic  isolation 
in  which  his  convictions  flourished  made  his  big  heart 
bound  with  a  sense  of  fellowship  with  this  earnest, 
intelligent  young  woman. 

Her  oration  was  merely  a  rhetorical,  poetic  flight 
in  which  she  foresaw  a  nation  where  the  joy  of  life 
should  not  be  perpetually  overshadowed  by  the  fear 
of  want;  where  motherhood  should  not  be,  as  now  it 
is  to  thousands,  a  menace  of  starvation,  of  horror; 
where  none  should  go  hungry  and  cold  except  chronic 
parasites  and  idlers  (the  class  which  now  monopolized 
all  luxury) ;  a  nation  which  should  give  to  all  children 
born  under  its  flag  an  equal  chance  to  equip  them 
selves  for  participation  in  the  world's  accumulated 
stores  of  intellectual  and  artistic  wealth;  where  there 
should  be  absolutely  equal  opportunity  for  all  to  de- 

264 


Commencement  Day 

velop  the  highest  capacity  for  both  happiness  and 
usefulness. 

And  this  was  the  young  woman  (Jordan  marveled 
while,  the  valedictory  having  been  spoken  and  the 
diplomas  distributed,  the  few  concluding  exercises 
were  being  performed) — this  was  the  young  woman 
whom  Theodora  had  been  led  to  believe  was  too  com 
mon,  countrified  and  "Dutch"  to  be  their  librarian? 
Of  course  Theo  had  not  seen  the  girl  when  she  had 
thus  pronounced  against  her.  Now  that  she  had  seen 
and  heard  her,  however  much  she  might  disagree  with 
the  socialistic  sentiments  Miss  Dreary  held,  she  would 
of  course  withdraw  all  objections  to  her;  for  what 
was  a  paltry  training  in  a  book-cataloguing  system 
against  such  originality  and  character  as  this  girl 
manifested?  Why,  Miss  Dreary  would  be  (he  knew 
Theo  would  agree  with  him)  a  notable  addition  to 
their  Faculty — dull  lot  that  they  were,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  Barrett! 

"And  even  Barrett  is,  God  knows,  limited  enough — 
for  all  his  Oxford  'culture'!"  concluded  Jordan  as, 
the  morning's  performances  ended,  he  rose  with  the 
general  breaking  up  of  the  stiff  phalanxes  on  the 
stage  and  made  straight  for  the  valedictorian. 

"Miss  Dreary — Mr.  Jordan,"  he  introduced  him 
self,  offering  his  hand,  "though  we  have  met  before, 
haven't  we?  Never  in  my  life,  until  to-day,  Miss 
Dreary,  I  swear  to  you,  have  I  voluntarily  listened 
to  a  girl  graduate!  Your  oration  was  fine — fine!" 

265 


Barnabetta 

he  exclaimed,  assisting  her,  as  he  spoke,  to  gather  up 
her  belongings — her  flowers,  her  diploma,  her  essay,  a 
gauze  scarf,  her  white  gloves  (which  she  had  pru 
dently  removed  the  moment  the  benediction  had  been 
pronounced) . 

"I  don't  believe  many  people  liked  what  I  said, 
though, ' '  responded  the  thrillingly  feminine  voice.  ' '  I 
did  n  't  expect  that  they  would.  I  know  that  the  ideas 
I  have  come  to  hold  about  some  things  are  not  popular. 
But  how  little  that  matters  when  one  is  convinced  of 
a  thing!" 

"Exactly!"  cried  Jordan  enthusiastically,  gazing 
with  ardor  into  the  dark  eyes  lifted  to  his.  "It  is 
so  refreshing  to  meet,  in  Middleton,  an  individual 
who  has  a  live  opinion  about  anything !  They  live  by 
their  prejudices  here — the  deeply-intrenched,  strongly- 
fortified  prejudices  of  the  self-satisfied  middle  classes 
— perfectly  impregnable  to  a  new  idea!  So,  while 
they  could  not  escape  the  spell  of  your  eloquence, 
they  are  humping  their  shoulders  at  your  ideas,  Miss 
Dreary ! ' ' 

"You  think  they  didn't  like  it?" 

"I  am  sure  they  didn't.  You  had,  however, 
one  sympathetic  listener — I  believe  in  your  'Pater 
nalism.'  ' 

"Do  you?"  she  said  eagerly.  "But,"  she  added, 
puzzled,  "you  are  a  capitalist,  a  very  rich  man?" 

"Not  very  rich,  Miss  Dreary,  inasmuch  as  I  have 
never  made  a  dollar  except  through  service  I  have 

266 


Commencement  Day 

given — and  you  can't  get  very  rich  on  that  line  in 
these  days." 

"No,  it  is  the  other  way  now — by  damaging,  not  by 
helping  society,  that  men  grow  rich." 

"Exactly!  So,"  he  added,  "you  are  going  to  be 
our  librarian  next  term,  I  understand?" 

"Yes;  Dr.  Barrett  is  so  kind  as  to  offer  me  the 
place.  I  am  very  glad.  And  he  is  going  to  let  me 
do  post-graduate  work  with  him,  too ! " 

"What  do  you  think  of  taking  a  course,  during  the 
vacation,  in  a  summer  school  for  librarians?" 

"But  I  am  going  to  Europe  this  summer." 

"That  could  not  be  postponed?" 

"No,  I  would  not  postpone  it." 

"Not  if  it  made  you  a  more  efficient  librarian?" 

' '  It  would  not  do  for  me  what  a  trip  to  Europe  will 
do — even  in  fitting  me  to  be  a  good  librarian,  I  am 
sure. ' ' 

"I  am  inclined  to  agree  with  you." 

They  had  started  to  move  together  across  the  stage 
towards  the  wings,  when  Barrett,  emerging  from  a 
group  of  trustees,  came  up  to  them. 

"Tut,  tut — tut,  tut,  Barnabetta!"  he  frowned  down 
upon  her.  "How  you  did  spread  yourself  this  morn 
ing,  didn't  you,  child!  How  did  you  dare  take 
sucli  a  liberty,"  he  shook  his  head  at  her,  "without 
consulting  me !  I  did  n  't  know  your  foolish  socialistic 
ideas  had  carried  you  so  far,  or  I  should  have  taken 
you  in  hand !  I  shall  have  to  talk  with  you — seriously 

267 


Barnabetta 

talk  with  you,  you  know!    You  really  must  not  mar 
your  beautiful  progress  with  these  wild  theories!" 

"Shut  up,  Barrett — the  child  's  entirely  on  the  right 
track  and  it  's  you  that  are  side-tracked.  You  let 
her  and  her  theories  alone !  Don 't  let  him  persuade 
you,  Miss  Dreary,  that  you  are  wrong.  "When  do  you 
sail!" 

"Next  month." 

"To-night  you  will  be  at  the  alumnae  dance — but 
may  I  come  to  see  you  to-morrow  and  bring  you  some 
books  I  know  you  '11  like?" 

"Now,  look  here,  'Jordan,"  interposed  Barrett, 
"you  shan't  poison  her  mind  with  your  stuff!  I 
won't  have  it!" 

"Ah,  my  dear  daughter!"  suddenly  exclaimed  a 
shrill  voice  and  Mrs.  Dreary,  advancing  from  the 
wings,  swooped  down  upon  the  little  group  and  clasped 
Barnabetta  to  her  bosom.  "Gentleman!"  she  ex 
claimed,  holding  the  girl  off  again  and  appealing 
dramatically  to  Barrett  and  Jordan,  "was  it  not  a 
most  pleasing  address  ?  To  think  that  she  could  acquit 
herself  so  precociously  before  an  assemblage  of  fash 
ion  and  learning — oh ! ' '  she  concluded,  tearfully  senti 
mental,  ' '  if  only  her  dear  father  could  have  been  here 
to  hear  her!" 

Barnabetta  laid  her  arm  about  her  mother's  waist 
as  she  spoke  to  the  two  men.  ' '  Does  n  't  this  diploma 
mean,"  she  asked,  smiling  and  holding  it  up,  "that 
I  at  least  know  poison  from  food  ? ' ' 

268 


Commencement  Day 

' '  It  ought  to ! "  retorted  Jordan.  ' '  So  you  '11  have 
to  trust  her,  Barrett,  to  read  whatever  interests  her. 
Look  for  me,  Miss  Dreary,  to-morrow — I  '11  be  bring 
ing  you  some  pernicious  literature ! ' ' 

"Well,"  she  acquiesced.  "Good-by."  She  smiled 
impartially  upon  the  two  men  as,  taking  her  mother's 
arm,  she  turned  away. 


269 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

BROTHER   AND   SISTER 

THEODORA  had  assumed,  upon  seeing  David, 
Miss  Dreary  and  President  Barrett  in  con 
ference  on  the  stage,  that  the  promise  she  had  exacted 
from  her  brother  that  morning  before  he  had  left  her 
was  being  carried  out  and  that  he  was  telling  Dr. 
Barrett  of  the  impossibility  of  his  permitting  Miss 
Dreary  to  receive  the  library  appointment. 

So,  when  an  hour  later  she  met  David  at  luncheon, 
feeling  assured  that  the  matter  was  concluded  ac 
cording  to  her  instructions,  she  was  only  mildly  cu 
rious  to  hear  an  account  of  how  Barrett  had  received 
the  defeat  of  his  purpose. 

"Well?"  she  inquired  as  they  sipped  their  soup. 

"What,  dear?"  David  absently  returned. 

She  glanced  at  him  in  surprise.  She  was  accus 
tomed  to  his  alert  attention  when  she  spoke.  "Your 
talk  with  Dr.  Barrett,  David?" 

"My  talk— with  Barnabetta?  Oh,  with  Barrett? 
I  didn't  have  any.  Well,  yes,  a  word  or  two,  I  be 
lieve.  For  a  man  of  intelligence,  the  fellow  is  cer 
tainly  insufferably  prejudiced!" 

"You  mean  so  prejudiced  in  favor  of  that  girl?" 
270 


Brother  and  Sister 

"Eh?  No,  not  at  all.  He  scolded  her  roundly 
under  my  very  nose  for  the  views  she  put  forth  in  her 
oration. ' ' 

"I  should  think  he  might!" 

"But  what  a  surprise  you  had,  dear,  didn't  you, 
in  finding  the  young  lady  so  different  from  what  you 
had  supposed?" 

"Young  'lady'?" 

"I  mean  Miss  Dreary  of  course.  Isn't  it  she 
you  're  speaking  of?" 

"Certainly." 

"What  led  you  to  get  the  impression,  my  dear,  that 
she  was  '  a  common  Dutch  country  girl '  ? " 

"Her  father  was  a  tinsmith,  Mrs.  "Winthrop  says, 
at  that  Dutch  village,  Reinhartz,  and  until  the  girl 
came  here  to  college  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  she  had 
never  been  on  a  railroad  train." 

"Astonishing!"  exclaimed  the  Judge  with  an  en 
thusiasm  his  sister  considered  wholly  irrelevant. 
"What  a  bright  and  shining  example  of  my  demo 
cratic  theories,  and  what  a  blow  to  your  superstition 
of  'good  blood,'  my  dear,  is  that  young  lady's  per 
sonality!  Not  another  girl  on  the  stage  could  hold 
a  candle  to  her.  Were  n  't  you  astonished  at  her  ? ' ' 

Theodora  had  indeed  been  astonished,  and  more 
than  that — she  had  been  appalled  at  her  realization  of 
the  girl's  "vital  significance,"  as  she  expressed  it;  at 
the  deep,  quiet  force  one  felt  embodied  in  that  wholly 
feminine  personality.  To  be  sure,  there  was  some- 

271 


Barnabetta 

thing  primitive,  even  crude,  in  an  earnestness  which 
could  make  a  young  woman  so  unconscious  of  herself 
as  almost  to  reveal  her  naked  soul  to  a  startled  audi 
ence  ;  yet,  Theodora  had  to  admit,  Miss  Dreary  did  not 
seem  either  primitive  or  crude. 

"Dr.  Barrett  did  not  protest,  then,  against  your 
decision  not  to  accept  Miss  Dreary  as  a  candidate?" 
she  inquired. 

David  glanced  at  her  in  questioning  surprise.  "But 
of  course  nothing  was  said  about  that  after  I  found 
that  you  had  been  mistaken  about  her,"  he  replied. 

"Nothing  was  said?" 

"Naturally  not,  when  there  was  no  necessity." 

"No  necessity  to  keep  your  word  to  me,  David?" 

"Why,  my  dear,  you  don't  suppose  I  'd  interfere 
with  Barrett  unless  he  were  really  making  a  serious 
blunder?  And  you  saw,  as  well  as  I  did,  what  an 
excellent  candidate  he  has  picked  out. ' ' 

"That  is  not  the  point.  The  girl  is  clever  and 
unusual  of  course — though  very  eccentric.  But  the 
point  is,  as  I  thought  we  had  decided  quite  conclu 
sively,  that  we  must  have  a  trained  librarian.  No  up- 
to-date  college  employs  anything  else.  You  must  see 
Dr.  Barrett  at  once,  David." 

"I  shouldn't  think  of  opposing  Miss  Dreary's  ap 
pointment,  Theo." 

Theodora  laid  down  her  spoon  and  looked  at  her 
brother.  When  had  he  ever  told  her  he  "would  not 
think"  of  doing  a  thing  she  requested  of  him? 

272 


Brother  and  Sister 

"You  would  not  think  of  keeping  your  promise  to 
me,  David?" 

' '  A  promise  made  under  a  mistaken  impression,  my 
dear." 

"But  a  promise  I  want  you  to  keep,  David!" 

"But  why,  dear?" 

"Because  I  think  it  best  for  the  college." 

"My  dear,  we  would  search  far  before  we  'd  find 
a  librarian  who  would  be  better  for  the  college  than 
Miss  Dreary  will  be — in  my  estimation." 

"You  don't  seem  to  understand,  David,  that  I 
don't  intend  to  have  this  girl  appointed;  that  I  wish 
you  to  speak  to  Dr.  Barrett  at  once  as  you  agreed  to 
do." 

"But,  my  dear,"  he  asked  in  surprise,  "why  lay 
so  much  stress  upon  a  matter  of  no  vital  importance  ? ' ' 

"I  consider  it  of  most  vital  importance." 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,  dear,  for  I  cannot  agree  with 
you." 

"But  you  will  do  as  I  wish,  David?  You  will  see 
Dr.  Barrett  and  tell  him  of  our  candidate  ? ' ' 

"My  dear,  I  can't  think  of  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can,  David.  For  if  you  don't,  I 
shall  ask  for  the  position  for  mi/self  and  shall  spend 
the  summer  at  a  school  for  librarians!  That  is  how 
important  I  consider  it  to  have  a  trained  librarian ! ' ' 

"You  take  the  position  of  librarian,  my  dear?"  he 
laughed.  "Very  well,  if  it  would  amuse  you!  But 
it  would  scarcely  seem  worth  while,  I  think,  for  you 

273 


Barnabetta 

to  rob  that  little  girl  of  the  position,  which,  as  she 
told  me,  would  give  her  a  chance  to  do  post-graduate 
work  with  Barrett." 

Theodora  bent  her  face  over  her  plate.  "I  would 
scarcely  place  her  interests  before  those  of  the  col 
lege,"  she  said. 

"Shall  I,  then,  tell  Barrett  that  you  want  the 
place?"  he  asked  incredulously. 

"I  don't  want  it.  But  I  shall  take  it  rather  than 
have  an  untrained  librarian.  I  shall  take  it  if  you 
will  not  tell  Dr.  Barrett  that  you  will  not  support 
Miss  Dreary." 

"We  might  have  Barrett  up  and  talk  it  out  with 
him?"  Jordan  suggested. 

"I  told  you,  David,  that  I  did  not  wish  Dr.  Barrett 
to  know  this  came  from  me — he  is  too  sensitive  about 
dictation  from  a  woman." 

"I  see,"  said  Jordan  slowly.  "I  see.  Very  well, 
dear,  very  well." 

Jordan  was  a  man  of  open  mind  and  few  preju 
dices.  But  there  was  one  prejudice  he  had  never  out 
grown  and  that  was  that  a  woman  should  have  what 
she  wanted  if  it  was  in  the  power  of  man  to  give  it 
to  her.  He  found  himself,  therefore,  just  now,  be 
tween  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea  and  he  could  not,  for 
the  life  of  him,  see  any  loophole  of  escape. 


274 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

AT   THE  DANCE 

IT  was  at  the  alumnae  dance  that  night  that  the  little 
drama  revolving   itself   about  our  unsuspecting 
Barnabetta  developed  to  a  climax. 

Though  Barnabetta  did  not  of  course  dance,  she 
was  not  a  wallflower,  for  she  was  honored  by  the  un 
precedented  distinction  of  having  the  College  Presi 
dent  lead  her  off  during  the  first  dance  to  an  alcove 
to  talk  with  her — the  other  alumnse  looking  upon  Miss 
Dreary  with  mingled  envy  and  respect. 

"I  have  a  most  disagreeable  thing  to  tell  you!" 
Barrett,  in  an  annoyed  tone,  announced  to  her  when 
they  were  seated  together.  "Judge  Jordan  called  to 
see  me  this  afternoon  about  you." 

"About  me?" 

' '  He  's  taken  a  fool  notion  into  his  head  that  we  've 
got  to  have  a  trained  librarian.  Insists  upon  it! — 
has  his  candidate  ready  to  hand !  I  explained  to  him 
that  the  last  librarian  used  an  up-to-date  library  sys 
tem  which  you  had  learned  from  her.  But  he  re 
fused,"  said  Barrett  irritably,  "unreasonably  and 
obstinately  refused,  to  support  you." 

275 


Barnabetta 

" Why,"  said  Barnabetta,  looking  daunted,  "this 
morning  he  seemed  so  friendly ! ' ' 

"It  is  such  very  great  nonsense!  "Why  should  he 
meddle  in  my  affairs  like  this  ? ' ' 

"But  this  morning,  while  he  did  suggest  that  I 
go  to  a  summer  library  school,  he  afterwards  agreed 
with  me  that  I  'd  do  better  to  go  to  Europe." 

"He  usually  knows  his  own  mind!  I  can't  under 
stand  this  freak  he  has  taken." 

"And  he  didn't  say  a  word  to  me,"  added  Barna 
betta,  "about  another  candidate.  I  think  he  was  in 
sincere  with  me,  Dr.  Barrett!" 

"Insincerity  is  not  a  characteristic  of  his,  I  must 
admit." 

"Does  his  objecting  to  me,"  she  asked  anxiously, 
"mean  that  I  won't  get  the  position?" 

"Yes — unless  I  decide  to  fight  it  out  with  him 
in  the  Board — openly  opposing  my  candidate  to 
his." 

"But  that  might  be  very  bad  for  you  perhaps? — 
as  Judge  Jordan  is  president  of  the  Board  which  ap 
points  you?" 

' '  It  might  be  very  bad  indeed  for  me — in  more  ways 
than  one." 

"Yes,"  responded  Barnabetta  understandingly, 
"he  is  also  Miss  Jordan's  brother.  Then  you  must 
not  do  it  for  me,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"Don't  you  know  that  you  are  quite  worth  a  man's 
risking  his  neck  for  you?" 

276 


At  the  Dance 

"But  that  little  library  position  would  not  be  worth 
your  risking  you r  important  position ! ' ' 

' '  Having  you  come  back  to  Stevens,  however,  might 
be  worth  a  considerable  risk." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  take  the  risk — I  shall  refuse 
to  be  an  applicant  for  the  place!" 

"Don't  do  anything  rash!  Wait.  I  am  going  to 
resort  to  diplomacy.  I  shall  appeal  to  Miss  Jordan 
to  use  her  influence  with  her  brother.  She  will  help 
us  out.  If  any  one  can  influence  him,  she  can;  I  '11 
talk  to  her  about  it  here  to-night  when  she  comes." 

"I  'm  not  sure  I  want  the  position  if  I  'm  not 
wanted!"  said  Barnabetta  dubiously.  "I  'm  like 
Mama's  negro  servant  who  says  she  would  not  go 
to  a  party  she  was  n't  invited  to  if  she  never  got  any 
where!" 

"Jordan  isn't  the  whole  Board.  The  rest  of  them 
never  dream  of  objecting  to  any  one  I  name  for  any 
position  whatsoever.  Leave  the  matter  to  me,  Barna 
betta." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to." 

"I  only  mentioned  it  to  you  to-night  to  prepare 
you  in  case  he  does  carry  his  point. ' ' 

"I  shall  be  very  much  disappointed  if  he  does  carry 
it!"  said  Barnabetta  wistfully. 

"I  shall  do  my  best!"  affirmed  Barrett  grimly.  It 
was  evident  that  opposition  had  stirred  his  fighting 
blood. 

There  was,  just  here,  a  little  stir  in  the  room,  then 
277 


Barnabetta 

almost  a  hush — and  every  eye  was  turned  towards  the 
door  as  at  this  moment  Miss  Jordan  entered — with  her 
brother  as  an  adjunct.  She  was  robed  in  a  clinging 
black  crepe  gown,  against  which  her  white  neck  and 
shoulders  gleamed  like  alabaster.  A  large  red  rose 
heaved  and  fell  on  her  breast. 

As  she  moved  across  the  room  with  her  brother  to 
the  ' '  receiving  committee, ' '  her  gracious  bowing  on  all 
sides  in  response  to  the  awed  or  admiring  greetings 
she  received  did  not  suggest  to  one  single  person  in 
that  room,  except  Mrs.  "Winthrop,  how  she  reveled  in 
the  homage  she  received;  how  scarcely  one  look  or 
tone  directed  towards  her  was  lost  to  her  soft,  swift 
glances  about  her ;  how  her  position  of  grand  lady  in 
Middleton  fed  her  soul — as  companionship  with  her 
equals  or  superiors  in  Boston  could  never  do.  Yet 
nothing  whatever  in  her  countenance  or  bearing  be 
trayed  this  overweening  egotism.  Not  even  when  her 
glance  swept  the  two — Dr.  Barrett  and  Barnabetta — 
seated  together  in  the  alcove,  did  the  gentleness  of 
her  smile,  the  dreamy  look  of  her  dark  eyes,  waver  in 
the  least. 

"What  a  mask  she  wears!"  thought  Mrs.  "Winthrop 
as  she  watched  her.  "And  she  doesn't  herself  sus 
pect  that  she  is  a  poseuse." 

"Is  n't  she  beautiful !"  breathed  Barnabetta  as  Miss 
Jordan  with  her  brother  moved  past  them  with  a 
gracious  bow  and  smile  to  Barrett. 

"It  is  the  loveliness  of  her  spirit  that  makes  her 
278 


At  the  Dance 

beautiful,  Barnabetta ! ' '  Barrett  fervently  responded. 

"  Yes,"  Barnabetta  as  fervently  agreed;  "all  the 
other  women  look  so — so  common  beside  her!" 

"Except  you!" 

It  came  from  him  involuntarily  and  surprised  him 
self  even  more  than  it  did  Barnabetta.  He  looked  at 
her  suddenly,  with  a  new  keenness.  It  was  really 
true — even  Theodora's  soft  radiance  could  not  dim 
that  subtly  fine,  spiritual  quality  embodied  in  Barna 
betta,  which  made  strangely  impossible  any  idea  of 
"commonness"  in  connection  with  her. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said  abruptly,  "do  you  know  I 
very  strongly  disapproved  of  your  oration  this  morn 
ing?  If  I  had  known  that  you  were  seriously  har 
boring  these  pernicious  theories,  I  should  long  ago 
have  set  you  straight." 

' '  Pernicious  ? ' ' 

"To  take  the  control  of  affairs  out  of  the  hands  of 
the  efficient  few  and  place  it  in  the  hands  of  the  in 
competent  masses — impossible !  Control  of  the  big  in 
terests  of  this  or  any  nation  always  has  been  and  al 
ways  will  be  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  no  matter  what 
form  of  government  you  establish." 

"I  know  that,  Dr.  Barrett.  But  should  those  'few' 
be  allowed  to  control  the  big  interests  for  their  own 
benefit — or  for  ours?  " 

"They  should  at  least  be  free  to  reap  the  rich  bene 
fits  of  their  own  high  ability!"  he  maintained. 
"Where  did  you  come  by  your  ideas?" 

279 


Barnabetta 

"I  found  Henry  George's  Progress  and  Poverty 
in  the  library  one  day — that  started  me.  Since  then 
I  Ve  been  reading  everything  in  that  line  I  could  find. 
I  don't  understand  much  about  social  economy — but 
I  do  get  hold  of  some  big  general  principles  that  seem 
to  me  so  true  I  wonder  the  whole  world  does  n't  believe 
them.  I  seem  to  myself  to  have  been  asleep  all  these 
years  that  I  have  never  questioned  the  right  and  jus 
tice  of  things  as  they  are.  To  be  sure,  living  all  my 
life  in  a  place  like  Reinhartz  which  is  never  touched 
by  the  great  world-movements — " 

' '  Ah,  here  you  are ! ' '  interrupted  a  deep  voice,  as  at 
this  moment  Judge  Jordan  suddenly  appeared  before 
them,  looking,  in  his  evening  dress  which  revealed  the 
outlines  of  his  splendid  frame,  both  handsome  and 
powerful.  "Barrett,  I  'm  going  to  take  this  little  girl 
away  from  you — I  have  to  talk  to  her.  May  I,  Miss 
Dreary?"  he  inquired,  bending  to  offer  his  arm. 
"Pardon  me,  Barrett,  but  it  's  important."  And  be 
fore  either  she  or  Barrett  quite  realized  what  was  hap 
pening,  the  big  man  had  swept  her  to  her  feet  and 
was  leading  her  down  the  length  of  the  room  —  leaving 
Barrett  in  a  state  of  astonishment  and  chagrin  which 
was  ill-concealed  from  curious  onlookers. 


280 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  APPEAL   TO   THEODORA 

IT  was  not  until  the  evening's  festivities  were 
nearly  over  that  Barrett  found  himself  alone  with 
Theodora,  though  he  had  been  trying  to  find  an 
opportunity  to  talk  with  her  ever  since  Jordan  had 
taken  away  Barnabetta.  But  Miss  Jordan  had  been 
so  much  in  demand  that  he  had  been  unable  to  speak 
with  her  except  as  one  of  a  group;  and  Edgar  Bar 
rett  did  not  fancy  being  one  of  a  group.  Neither 
did  Theodora,  for  that  matter,  except  as  the  center 
and  pivot  of  the  group. 

He  finally  decided  to  get  in  his  chance  by  taking 
her  out  to  supper;  but  he  was  again  foiled  by  her 
brother's  appearing  and  bearing  her  off  to  the  din- 
ing-hall. 

Mrs.  Winthrop  had  been  watching  these  maneuvers, 
with  a  sense  of  satisfaction  in  her  brother's  persist 
ence.  The  revelation,  that  morning,  of  the  person 
ality  of  the  girl  with  whom  she  had  one  day  discov 
ered  Edgar  familiarly  laughing  and  talking,  his 
honoring  that  same  maiden  to-night  with  a  tete-a- 
tete  in  an  alcove,  had  rasped  her  nerves  with  anxiety. 
That  he  should  publicly  make  himself  so  cheap  with 

281 


Barnabetta 

a  little  nobody  from  a  Dutch  village!  Where  was 
his  judgment? 

It  was  during  the  supper  in  the  college  dining-hall, 
as  she  watched  Theodora  with  David,  that  for  the  first 
time  in  her  acquaintance  with  that  young  woman, 
she  saw  her  lose,  for  a  moment,  her  marvelous  self- 
control,  her  perfect  mask  of  dreamy,  gentle  loveli 
ness,  and  turn  upon  David  a  look  of  black  anger  that 
made  him  draw  back  appalled.  Mrs.  Winthrop 
breathed  deep  with  thankfulness  that  Edgar  was  not 
by  to  witness  this  sudden,  momentary  transformation 
of  the  woman  he  idealized — it  would  too  completely 
have  disillusioned  him.  Judge  Jordan's  shocked 
amazement  was  testimony  enough  that  Theodora  was 
not  wont,  even  in  the  privacy  of  home,  to  give  way 
like  that.  What  could  he  have  done  to  his  sister  to 
infuriate  her  so?  * 

Suddenly  a  grotesque  possibility  flashed  upon  Mrs. 
Winthrop  that  made  her  almost  laugh  aloud.  Judge 
Jordan  had  sat  out  two  dances  in  very  earnest  con 
versation  with  Miss  Dreary — was  Theodora  troubled 
and  angry  about  that?  Oh,  wouldn't  it  be  funny 
if  after  "protecting"  her  brother  during  all  these 
years  from  "designing  women,"  she  should  have  to 
stand  by  and  see  him  fall  a  prey  to  an  obscure 
"Dutch"  girl  by  the  name  of  Barnabetta  Dreary, 
from  Reinhartz  Station!  Poor  Theodora!  Mrs. 
Winthrop 's  shoulders  shook  with  silent  laughter.  If 
only  that  would  happen!  It  would  at  least  insure 

282 


The  Appeal  to  Theodora 

Edgar  from  a  madness  of  folly!  And  if  it  came  to 
a  choice,  on  Barnabetta's  part,  between  Edgar  and 
Jordan — well,  from  the  standpoint  of  the  Dreary  girl, 
of  course  Jordan  with  his  wealth  would  be  far  the 
better  match. 

"Anyway,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  grimly  concluded,  "if 
it  actually  comes  to  the  worst,  if  Edgar  does  lose  his 
head  and  want  to  make  a  fool  of  himself,  this  Barna- 
betta  is  a  simple  country  girl  —  she  can  be  managed 
— and  disposed  of.  I  'd  stop  at  nothing  to  save  Edgar 
from  such  an  enormity!" 

It  was  just  after  the  supper  that  at  last  Barrett 
managed  to  lead  Theodora  away  with  him  to  a  far 
corner. 

"You  are  pale,"  he  said  solicitously  as  soon  as 
they  were  alone.  "You  are  not  feeling  very  fit?" 

"A  bit  tired,"  she  smiled.  She  had  entirely  re 
covered  her  momentary  loss  of  self-control. 

"I  want  to  enlist  your  help,  Theodora,  in  a  little 
matter.  I  have  run  up  against  a  snag  in  your  dear 
brother's  character  that  I  had  never  suspected!  He 
has  a  streak  of  blind  obstinacy,  hasn't  he?" 

"You  have  just  discovered  it?" 

"I  have  never  until  to-night  known  him  to  stick 
to  a  point  without  a  reason  that  seemed,  at  least  to 
himself,  to  be  a  good  one ! ' ' 

"What  is  it  all  about,  Edgar?" 

"He  hasn't  told  you  of  his  call  on  me  this  after 
noon?" 

283 


Barnabetta 

"You  mean  concerning  a  new  librarian?" 

"Yes." 

"He  did  casually  mention  it." 

"You  didn't  know,  then,  that  he  insists  he  wants 
a  'trained  librarian,'  won't  consider  any  other  sort 
and  will  strenuously  oppose  my  candidate,  Miss 
Dreary,  with  one  of  his  own  selection?  Now,  of 
course,  you  know,  Theodora,  how  simple,  even 
trifling,  is  the  work  of  our  college  library — and  that 
the  present  librarian  uses  the  identical  system  a 
graduated  librarian  would  use.  What  's  more,  she 
has  taught  this  system  to  Bar — Miss  Dreary." 

"Yes?" 

"In  vain  I  explained  all  this  to  the  Judge!  'A 
trained  librarian'  he  would  have  if  he  scaled  the 
Alps  to  get  her!  Do  you  think  you  could  make  him 
see  reason  ?  I  know  how  much  influence  you  do  have 
with  him." 

"But  I  don't  quite  catch  your  point,  Edgar,"  she 
gently  questioned.  "Why  should  you  object  to  a 
trained  librarian?" 

"I  don't.  Don't  you  see  Miss  Dreary  is  practi 
cally  trained?" 

"But  what  difference  can  it  make  to  you,"  she 
laughed,  "who  has  the  position?" 

"It  would  give  Miss  Dreary  a  chance  to  do  post 
graduate  work,  and  I  am  naturally  interested  in  her 
progress — she  has  been  an  extraordinary  student." 

"I  shouldn't,  myself,  want  her  to  be  in  a  position 
284 


The  Appeal  to  Theodora 

where  site  could  propagate  among  the  students  such 
ideas  as  she  gave  forth  this  morning,  Edgar." 

"That  would  not  be  your  brother's  objection  to 
her,  however.  I  counted  on  your  help,  Theodora." 

"You  should  have  it,  Edgar,  if  it  were  in  my 
power  to  give  it  to  you — you  know  that — my  friend !" 
she  added  earnestly.  "But  I  am  afraid  my  inter 
cession  would  come  too  late." 

"Why,  no,  the  Board  doesn't  meet  until  next 
week. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said  very  sadly,  "that  David's 
opposition  was  purely  personal  and  selfish,  Edgar." 

"How  do  you  mean?     How  could  it  be?" 

"He  actually  told  me  when  we  were  at  supper  that 
he  had  engaged  this  Miss  Dreary  as  his  assistant  in 
propagating  his  dreadful  anarchism!  She  will  assist 
him  in  preparing  his  lectures,  in  collecting  data  and 
literature;  in  the  revision  of  his  magazine  and  news 
paper  articles  on  Socialism — or  whatever  it  is  he 
thinks  he  believes!  Oh,  Edgar,"  cried  Theodora, 
sorrow  in  her  sweet  voice,  "the  girl  must  be  a  most 
subtly  designing  creature! — she  is  robbing  me  of  all 
the  influence  I  ever  had  with  David!  He  seems  in 
fatuated  with  her ! ' ' 

"Ah?"  exclaimed  Edgar  darkly,  a  deep  flush  cov 
ering  his  face  and  neck.  "Why,"  he  said,  bewil 
dered,  ' '  he  never  met  her,  to  really  know  her,  until  this 
morning,  did  he?" 

"He  must  have — though  he  never  told  me!  But 
285 


Barnabetta 

otherwise,  how  could  they  have  hatched  up  this  plot 
between  them?" 

"Plot?" 

"To  oppose  your  candidate,  and  all  the  time  both 
of  them  knowing  that  she  intended  to  be  his  assist 
ant!" 

"Oh,  no,  she  didn't  know  it.  He  must  have  of 
fered  her  the  position  only  to-night.  She  was  as 
puzzled  as  I  was  when  I  told  her  this  evening  of  his 
opposition  to  her." 

"Edgar,"  she  protested  gently  and  with  much 
apparent  reluctance,  "are  n't  you  a  bit  gullible  where 
girlish  simplicity  is  concerned?" 

"One  couldn't  exaggerate  the  girlish  simplicity 
of  Barnabetta  Dreary,  Theodora!  It  is  your  broth 
er's  want  of  candor  in  dealing  with  me  that  I 
don't  understand.  Apparently,  he  only  really  came 
to  know  Miss  Dreary  this  morning,  yet  he  had  his 
library  candidate  all  ready;  had  been  corresponding 
with  her;  and  has  now  engaged  Miss  Dreary  as  his 
' assistant.'  Do  you  make  it  out?" 

"I  think  Miss  Dreary  has  misled  you — they  must 
have  met  often  before. ' ' 

"You  are  sure  of  that — or  is  it  only  a  surmise?" 

"Hardly  a  surmise.     The  thing  is  so  evident!" 

"She  has  accepted  the  position  he  offered  her?" 

"With  enthusiasm,  he  tells  me." 

"And  without  consulting  me!" 

In  spite  of  himself  there  had  been  all  along  a  tone 
286 


The  Appeal  to  Theodora 

of  hurt  in  Barrett's  voice  that  did  not  serve  to  soften 
Theodora's  sentiments  towards  Barnabetta. 

Before  she  could  reply,  David  suddenly  appeared 
at  her  side.  He  bent  down  to  her  and  spoke  gravely. 

"Theo,  dear,  I  'm  going  to  take  Miss  Dreary  home 
in  the  motor.  Do  you  want  to  come  now — or  shall 
I  come  back  for  you?" 

She  raised  her  dark,  soft  eyes  to  his  face,  then  low 
ered  them  and  Barrett  saw  tears  on  her  lashes. 

"Don't  bother  about  me,  David — Dr.  Barrett  will 
take  care  of  me — or  I  '11  get  home  somehow!" 

"I  shall  come  right  back  for  you,  if  you  don't 
want  to  go  now  with — with  us." 

She  did  not  answer,  did  not  raise  her  eyes — and 
Jordan,  after  an  instant's  waiting,  went  away. 

"Oh,"  breathed  Theodora,  the  red  rose  on  her 
bosom  heaving  tumultuously,  "it  is  hard — hard — • 
to  feel  myself  so  displaced!  Edgar!"  she  appealed 
to  him  almost  piteously,  "you  are  my  friend — help 
me  to  bear  it!" 

But  Edgar,  as  from  the  window  at  which  they  sat 
he  saw  Jordan  hand  Barnabetta  into  his  limousine, 
felt  that  he,  too,  needed  help;  and  he  was  vaguely 
conscious  that  in  his  response  to  Theodora's  appeal, 
he  did  not  do  justice  to  their  high  friendship;  did 
not  rise  to  the  level  expected  of  him. 


287 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

AN  AFTERNOON  CALL — AND  AN  ENCOUNTER 

r  I  XHE  next  morning  a  messenger  brought  a  note 
JL  to  Barrett  from  Barnabetta  in  which  she  an 
nounced  with  manifest  satisfaction  that  she  had  ac 
cepted  a  position  offered  her  last  night  by  Judge 
Jordan — as  his  assistant. 

"I  know  you  will  be  glad  for  my  good  fortune," 
she  wrote,  "that  I  have  found  a  place  of  usefulness; 
a  Cause  to  work  for;  an  object  in  life.  And  though 
I  know  you  are  not  in  sympathy  with  what  I  believe 
I  must  tell  you  that  to  me  it  seems  a  very  great  work 
— to  help  to  bring  home  to  people  that  the  time  is 
ripe  for  a  real  human  brotherhood.  Judge  Jordan 
has  set  me  quite  afire  with  his  own  enthusiasm.  I  had 
been  longing  so  for  this  very  thing  to  happen-^that 
my  life  should  be  given  some  direction,  some  definite 
purpose.  I  can  hardly  believe  I  have  really  found 
it! 

"You  will  see  that  it  is  much  better  than  the 
library  position,  glad  as  I  would  have  been  for  that 
if  this  had  not  come  to  me.  Judge  Jordan  says 
any  one  can  do  that  library  work — the  matron  or  the 
janitor!" 

288 


An  Afternoon  Call — and  an  Encounter 

Barrett  found  himself  much  offended  by  this  note. 
Barnabetta  should  have  consulted  him  before  accept 
ing  the  position ;  she  should  not  so  readily,  so  joyfully, 
so  almost  contemptuously,  have  discarded  the  position 
he  would  have  secured  for  her  at  the  risk  of  his 
own. 

He  sulkily  stayed  away  from  her  for  a  whole  week 
after  getting  her  note — though  he  suffered  in  the 
consciousness  that  each  day  brought  nearer  her  de 
parture  for  Europe.  He  missed  unbearably  his  daily 
meeting  with  her  in  college  classes. 

At  the  end  of  a  week,  suddenly  deciding  he  would 
stand  it  no  longer,  he  went  late  one  afternoon  to  call 
on  her.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  been  inside  the 
cottage  in  which  she  dwelt  with  her  sprightly  step 
mother  and  while  he  waited  in  the  "parlor"  for  her  to 
come  down  stairs,  he  contemplated  with  a  shudder  the 
awful  get-up  of  the  room — the  "art  rug,"  chromos, 
tidies,  and  other  gay  and  festive  appointments. 
Fancy  his  sister  or  Theodora  discovering  him  paying 
a  social  call  in  a  setting  like  this !  He  grinned  at  the 
bare  idea. 

But  when  Barnabetta  appeared,  he  no  longer 
thought  of  the  room.  He  was  amazed  at  the  quick 
ening  of  his  whole  being  as  once  again,  after  a  week, 
he  found  himself  alone  with  this  girl  who  had  taken 
such  strange,  such  absurd  possession  of  him.  He 
wondered  whether  she  felt  new  life  in  this  renewal 
of  relations  between  them. 

289 


Barnabetta 

She  was,  he  recognized,  that  unusual  type  among 
her  sex — a  woman  possessing  great  charm  and  en 
tirely  unconscious  of  it.  The  power  of  a  woman  to 
charm  was,  ordinarily,  he  was  sure,  in  pretty  close 
ratio  to  her  realization  of  it.  Until  she  did  awaken 
to  a  sense  of  her  power,  her  sword  was  apt  to  be 
sheathed.  But  the  delicate  fascination  of  Barna 
betta  seemed  to  lie  in  this  very  unconsciousness — like 
the  charm  of  a  child. 

Almost  as  soon  as  they  were  seated,  she  began  to 
talk  eagerly  of  the  work  she  was  to  do  for  Judge 
Jordan  when  she  returned,  from  Europe  in  September. 
It  was  plain  to  him  that  that  theme  occupied  her  to 
the  exclusion  of  any  sense  of  wrong  to  her  Friend 
and  Well- Wisher,  Edgar  Barrett.  Before  her  ardent 
young  enthusiasm,  it  seemed  impossibly  petty  to 
broach  his  own  sense  of  injury  in  her  ignoring  of  him 
in  this  whole  matter. 

"But  you  know,"  he  ventured  to  say,  "this  'Cause' 
you  consider  so  important — it  's  all  great  tommy-rot, 
Barnabetta — I  'm  sorry  to  tell  you. 

She  regarded  him  in  thoughtful  silence  for  a  mo 
ment.  "It  is  hard  for  me  to  understand  how  any  one 
can  be  blind  to  what  seems  so  obvious — at  any  rate 
after  the  obvious  has  been  pointed  out." 

"The  'obvious'  is  never  the  real  truth — don't  you 
know  that?" 

"The  seemingly  obvious,  you  mean.  But  I  'm  talk 
ing  about  the  really  obvious." 

290 


An  Afternoon  Call — and  an  Encounter 

"You  Ve  been  carried  away  by  Jordan's  sophis 
tries!" 

"No,  not  by  'Jordan's  sophistries' — but  by  the  in 
justice  I  feel  in  life." 

"Don't  you  know,  child,  that  we  all  get  pretty  much 
what  we  deserve  out  of  life,  whatever  the  social  struc 
ture?" 

"No,"  she  shook  her  head,  "I  don't  know  that." 

"Judge  Jordan  will  spoil  you,"  said  Barrett  irri 
tably,  ' '  with  his  absurd  theories  about  the  masses ! ' ' 

"I  was  already  'spoiled'  before  he  got  hold  of  me. 
All  he  has  done  has  been  to  point  out  to  me  some 
possible  remedies  for  the  wrongs  under  which  we 
struggle." 

"  'Remedies?'  "  Barrett  shrugged  ironically. 

"Don't  you  think  the  remedies  will  be  found  just 
as  soon  as  enough  of  us  realize  the  unfairness  that 
there  is?"  asked  Barnabetta. 

Before  he  could  reply,  a  ring  at  the  front  door-bell 
interrupted  them  and  she,  excusing  herself,  left  the 
room  to  answer  it. 

Barrett  felt  intensely  annoyed  at  the  interruption. 
He  was  sure  that  if  given  the  chance,  he  could  con 
vince  Barnabetta  of  the  error  of  these  socialistic  ideas 
she  had  so  unfortunately  imbibed.  Surely  he  had  that 
much  influence  with  her!  He  strongly  hoped  he  was 
not  going  to  be  driven  away  by  another  visitor — 
possibly  Jordan! 

A  murmur  of  voices  at  the  front  door,  Barnabetta 's 
291 


Barnabetta 

greeting  of  some  one  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  in  which 
Barrett  thought  he  caught  the  name  Jordan — then 
in  reply,  speaking  now  inside  the  hall,  his  startled 
ear  caught  the  visitor's  voice — the  familiar  voice,  not 
of  Judge  Jordan,  but  of  Theodora ! 

If  Miss  Jordan  felt  any  surprise  at  finding  Dr. 
Barrett  in  the  parlor,  she  did  not  betray  it  in  the 
tenderly  gracious  greeting  she  had  for  him,  now  as 
always.  Though  her  presence  here  was  inexplicable, 
and  his  perfectly  natural,  he  was  the  one  who  showed 
embarrassment. 

He  wondered,  as  they  all  sat  down,  whether  he  were 
awake  or  dreaming!  Miss  Jordan  calling  on  Barna 
betta!  What  could  be  her  purpose  in  such  a  conde 
scension?  The  incongruity  of  these  two  in  juxtapo 
sition  struck  him — Theodora's  exceeding  complexity 
of  thought  and  expression  before  Barnabetta 's  sim 
plicity  and  directness! 

He  observed,  with  secret  surprise,  that  Barnabetta 
in  her  black  gown  did  not  suffer  in  the  least  by  com 
parison  with  the  exquisite  elegance  of  Theodora's 
appearance.  He  was  struck  also  by  the  fact  that  the 
unstudied  sincerity  of  Barnabetta 's  manner  lent  her 
a  distinction  not  less  marked  than  that  of  Theodora's 
polished  grace.  Every  theory  he  held  dear,  of  caste 
and  heredity,  was  being  challenged! 

Theodora's  conversation  betrayed  no  hint  of  an 
explanation  of  this  astonishing  visit.  Barnabetta 
seemed  surprised  and  pleased,  but  not  overwhelmed. 

292 


An  Afternoon  Call — and  an  Encounter 

She  was,  in  fact,  the  most  self-possessed  of  the  three. 
Barrett  felt  immensely  entertained  by  her  manifest 
inability  to  grasp  the  fact  that  she  was  being  honored. 

' '  We  were  all  so  surprised,  Miss  Dreary, ' '  Theodora 
remarked,  after  she  had  uttered  the  usual  perfunc 
tory  amenities  of  a  first  call,  "by  your  startling  gradu 
ation  oration!" 

There  was  a  subtly  veiled  amusement  in  her  tone  in 
referring  to  the  oration  and  an  equally  subtle  note 
of  patronage  that  made  Barrett  wince. 

"  'Startling?'  "  repeated  Barnabetta.  "But  my 
ideas  were  not  new.  They  were  already  old  in  the 
days  of  Plato!" 

"I  see  that  my  brother  has  been  talking  to  you," 
said  Theodora,  her  amusement,  now,  quite  open. 

"Yes,  he  has  talked  to  me  a  great  deal.  We  have 
splendid  talks." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes,  indeed!" 

Miss  Jordan  turned  from  the  girl  as  though  dismiss 
ing  her  from  her  presence,  and  spoke  to  Barrett. 

"I  have  the  score  of  Strauss 's  new  opera,  Edgar. 
Can  you  come  up  to  the  house  soon  and  let  me  play 
it  for  you?  I  know  I  can  convert  you  to  a  love  of 
Strauss  if  you  will  open  your  mind  and  heart  to  him ! 
— though  it  is  a  far-cry,  isn't  it,  from  Wagner  to 
Strauss?" 

She  had  swiing  the  talk  quite  out  of  Barnabetta 's 
reach,  obliging  the  girl  to  sit  by  in  silence  while  she 

293 


Barnabetta 

and  Barrett  chatted — an  exclusion  which  would  have 
been  very  awkward  to  one  more  sophisticated.  Barna 
betta,  however,  seemed  perfectly  content  to  lean  back 
placidly  in  her  chair  and  listen,  taking  in  what  she 
could,  which  was  not  much ;  for  her  forced,  hot-house, 
get-educa^ed-quick  course  at  Stevens  had  not  included 
the  higher  forms  of  any  art  except  that  of  letters. 

Barrett  was  the  first  to  feel  the  discourtesy  of  her 
exclusion  from  the  conversation.  At  the  first  possible 
chance  he  turned  to  her. 

"Almost  ready,  are  you,  for  your  voyage?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes — and  two  ladies  of  Middleton  who  go  abroad 
nearly  every  summer  are  going  to  let  us  travel  with 
them;  we  are  glad;  for  Mama  and  I  did  feel  a  little 
timid." 

' '  Who  are  they,  Barnabetta  ? ' ' 

He  saw  the  slight  stiffening  of  Theodora  at  his 
calling  the  girl  by  her  Christian  name.  Well,  no  won 
der  she  thought  it  incongruous ! 

"Miss  Jane  and  Miss  Eliza  Good,"  answered  Bar 
nabetta. 

"Good?  Who  on  earth!  Where  did  you  run 
across  them?" 

"They  live  in  the  next  cottage.  They  have  always 
lived  here.  They  are  such  lovely  and  intelligent 
women,  I  am  sure  you  must  know  them,  Miss  Jor 
dan?" 

"No." 

294 


An  Afternoon  Call — and  an  Encounter 

"Oh,  what  you  have  missed!  I  don't  believe  there 
are  any  people  in  Middleton  more  worth  know 
ing." 

Theodora  glanced  at  Barrett  with  a  smile.  "But, 
Miss  Dreary,"  she  explained  patiently,  "the  Miss — 
Goods,  is  it  ? — are  not  people  one  meets  anywhere ! ' ' 

Barnabetta  looked  puzzled.  "I  met  them  at  the 
college  library  one  day  and  then  they  called  to  see 
me.  I  am  sure  they  would  not  object  to  meeting  you, 
too,  Miss  Jordan.  Why  should  they?" 

Miss  Jordan  laughed  softly.  "I  dare  say  not,"  she 
answered  kindly — then  again  turned  to  Barrett.  "I 
have  a  bit  of  manuscript  to  submit  to  you,  my  long- 
suffering  friend!" 

"Ah?  Fine!  I  '11  call  to-morrow  morning,  if  I 
may?" 

"I  shall  be  at  home." 

"I  suppose  you  know,"  Barrett  asked  Barnabetta, 
' '  that  Miss  Jordan  is  a  poetess  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  yes.    Every  one  knows  that." 

"And  yet,"  said  Theodora  pensively,  "my  limita 
tion  is  that  my  message  is  for  the  few — the  elect,  if 
I  may  say  so  without  egotism.  I  yearn,  at  times,  to 
speak  a  more  universal  message — one  that  could  reach 
to  the  depths  as  well  as  to  the  heights!" 

She  looked  very  wistful;  and  Barnabetta  replied 
consolingly:  "But  I  am  sure  the  commonplace  peo 
ple  do  understand  and  enjoy  your  poetry,  Miss  Jor 
dan." 

295 


Barnabetta 

There  was  an  instant's  rather  awful  silence — and 
Barnabetta  added  innocently:  "I  do,  for  one." 

Neither  Theodora  nor  Barrett  offered  a  reply. 

"We  may  be  thankful,  I  think,"  Barnabetta  con 
tinued,  still  consolingly,  "if  even  a  few  will  listen 
seriously  to  what  we  have  to  say!  1  shall  be  when 
I  take  xup  my  work  with  your  brother,  Miss  Jor 
dan." 

"Yes?"  said  Theodora  with  a  slight  lift  of  her 
eyebrows.  "You  feel  you  have  a  message  for  your 
fellow-men? — and  you  are  quite  sure  the  call  to  de 
liver  it  is  a  vital  one?" 

"Oh,  no,"  laughed  Barnabetta,  "I  don't  at  all  feel 
I  am  a  Joan  of  Arc  or  a  John  the  Baptist ! ' ' 

"It  has  always  been  so  deeply  borne  in  upon  me," 
said  Theodora  solemnly,  "that  before  one  dares  go 
forth  with  a  message  to  humanity,  one  must  make  long 
and  earnest,  yes  prayerful,  preparation ! ' ' 

"But,"  replied  Barnabetta,  rather  appalled,  "I 
couldn't  take  myself  so  seriously,  so  importantly, 
Miss  Jordan,  as  that!  The  best  I  can  do  will  be  so 
insignificant. ' ' 

"But  how  can  you  have  courage  to  speak  to  hu 
manity  at  all  until,  like  the  knights  of  old,  you  have 
spent  your  night  in  fasting  and  prayer  before  going 
upon  your  search  for  the  Holy  Grail?" 

Barnabetta  gazed  at  her  in  such  childlike,  puzzled 
wonder  that  Barrett  suddenly  had  a  most  unseemly 
desire  to  laugh — and  for  the  first  time,  with  a  sharp 

296 


An  Afternoon  Call — and  an  Encounter 

shock,  he  felt  in  the  wonderful  Theodora  a  bit  of  a 
poseuse. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Miss  Jordan,"  said  Barna- 
betta,  "I  think  our  Cause  much  more  'vital,'  as  you 
say,  and  important  to  the  world  than  finding  the 
Holy  Grail  ever  was;  but  in  these  days  we  should 
think  fasting  and  loss  of  sleep  a  bad  preparation  for 
good  work  of  any  kind." 

"Don't  blaspheme,  please!"  pleaded  Theodora. 

Barnabetta  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

"Miss  Jordan  simply  means,"  Barrett  unneces 
sarily  explained,  to  cover  the  awkward  pause,  "that 
rashness,  crudity,  in  dealing  with  the  ignorant  emo 
tional  masses  is  criminal." 

"  It  is  because  of  long  centuries  of  rash,  crude  deal 
ing  with  them  (in  spite  of  our  Christian  doctrine  of 
love  and  human  brotherhood)  that  there  are  igno 
rant,  'emotional  masses' — isn't  it?"  asked  Barna 
betta. 

"That,"  responded  Barrett,  "is  the  superficial  view, 
of  course.  "When  one  thinks  more  deeply,  one  sees 
how  shallow,  how  impossible,  is  the  superstition  taught 
by  a  few  demagogues,  of  universal  equality." 

Just  here,  the  opening  of  the  front  door,  followed 
by  the  entrance,  in  street  garb,  of  Mrs.  Dreary — to 
Barrett's  intense  embarrassment — cut  short  their  dis 
cussion. 


297 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

ENTER,    MRS.   DREARY 

MRS.  DREARY  greeted  the  visitors  with  a  gra- 
ciousness  not  a  shade  less  patronizing  than 
Theodora's  own,  apologizing  for  not  having  appeared 
sooner  and  explaining  that  she  had  been  out  to  get 
some  medicine  for  her  bron-M£-i-cal  cough. 

"  'Tis  the  irony  of  fate,"  she  affirmed  tragically, 
"that  you  two  aristocrats  should  call  on  us  on  the 
very  day  when  our  colored  hired  girl  didn't  turn 
up — after  all  my  pains  to  teach  that  ne-gress  the 
genteel  and  proper  manner  of  admitting  visitors! — 
and  either  our  crude  wash-woman  or  Barnabetta  her 
self  had  to  answer  the  door-bell !  The  Scriptures  tell 
us,  'Put  not  your  trust  in  kings.'  It  should  read, 
'Put  not  your  trust  in  coons ! '  ' 

Barrett  had  placed  a  chair  for  her  and  she  had  sat 
down  in  the  midst  of  them.  He  watched  Barnabetta 
narrowly  as  Mrs.  Dreary  chatted  and  he  saw,  from  the 
soft  light  of  happiness  in  her  countenance  as  they 
rested  upon  her  stepmother,  that,  fortunately  enough, 
love  blinded  her  to  the  oddities  of  her  adopted  par 
ent. 

"I,  also,"  Mrs.  Dreary  continued  conversationally, 
298 


Enter,  Mrs.  Dreary 

"have  been  engaging  in  social  intercourse  this  after 
noon.  Calling  on  the  Miss  Goods — Eliza  and  Jane; 
also  on  our  neighbor,  Mrs.  Spankhof  t — a  woman, ' '  she 
added  disparagingly,  "of  an  insincere  and  worldly 
mind!" 

' '  What  leads  you  to  think  that,  Mama  ? ' '  Barnabetta 
asked  in  surprise. 

"Because,  darling,  she  invariably  asks  me  to  'step 
over  to  the  library,'  a  sitting-room  behind  the  parlor 
without  a  single  book  in  it.  Yet  she  has  the  effrontery 
to  call  it  'the  library'!  I  suppose  she  thinks  it  more 
dressy  to  call  it  a  library.  But  I  should  think  she  'd 
put  at  least  one  book  in  it. ' ' 

"I  Ve  been  telling  Miss  Jordan,"  said  Barnabetta, 
"what  lovely  women  our  friends  are — Miss  Eliza  and 
Miss  Jane.  She  has  never  met  them.  She  has  got 
the  impression,  somehow,  that  it  is  difficult  to  meet 
them.  But  I  am  sure  a  number  of  people  know 
them." 

"Oh,  you  would  find  them  very  sociable,  Miss  Jor 
dan,"  Mrs.  Dreary  said  reassuringly.  "'And  they 
are  very  high-toned  ladies.  You  would  undoubtedly 
find  it,  as  I  do,  a  great  advantage  to  know  them. ' ' 

"I  do  not  doubt  it,"  Theodora  bowed. 

"I  always  feel,"  said  Mrs.  Dreary,  "that  any  one 
misses  a  great  deal,  if  I  may  say  so  without  conceit, 
in  not  knowing  me." 

"They  certainly  do,"  said  Theodora  earnestly. 

"And  no  doubt,  Miss  Jordan,  you  feel  the  same 
299 


Barnabetta 

about  yourself.  So  I  shall  make  it  a  point,"  she 
promised  kindly,  "to  introduce  you  and  the  Miss 
Goods  to  each  other.  No  thanks  necessary ! ' '  she  pro 
tested,  raising  her  jeweled  hands. 

' ' You  are  most  kind. ' '  Miss  Jordan  rose  to  go.  "I 
want  to  ask  you,  Mrs.  Dreary, ' '  she  said  as  she  offered 
her  hand  in  parting,  "whether  I  may  have  the  pleas 
ure,  before  you  and  your  daughter  sail,  of  having 
you  both  lunch  with  me?  Next  Friday  at  half  after 
one?" 

Mrs.  Dreary,  in  very  flowery  diction,  promptly 
accepting  this  invitation,  seemed  as  innocent  as  Bar 
nabetta  herself  of  the  distinction  it  conferred.  Bar 
rett,  in  his  astonishment,  wondered  again  what  could 
be  Theodora's  idea.  Mrs.  Dreary  lunching  at  the 
Jordans' ! — the  widow  of  a  village  tinsmith,  who  called 
you  an  "aristocrat"  to  your  face! 

During  his  walk  home  with  Theodora,  no  slightest 
reference  was  made  by  either  of  them  to  the  singular 
experience  of  the  last  half  hour.  They  talked,  not  of 
the  Drearys,  but  of  "Wagner  and  Strauss. 

That  night,  at  dinner  with  his  sister,  determining  to 
find  out  whether  the  thing  looked  as  strange  to  her  as 
to  him,  Barrett  carelessly  mentioned  that  having  had 
an  errand  at  Miss  Dreary's,  he  had  met  Theodora 
there  paying  a  call,  and  that  she  had  invited  the 
Drearys  to  lunch  with  her  the  following  Friday. 

Mrs.  Winthrop  met  it  with  almost  a  shriek  of  laugh 
ter — which  she  instantly  checked. 

300 


Enter,  Mrs.  Dreary 

"But,"  inquired  Barrett,  annoyed  by  her  laugh, 
"you  have  never  met  either  Miss  Dreary  or  her  step 
mother,  have  you  ? ' ' 

"Naturally  not!  Are  they  people  one  would 
meet?" 

"Then  why  your  amusement?" 

"TMy  dear!  Theodora  Jordan  calling  on  people  by 
the  name  of  Dreary! — from  Reinhartz  Station — tin 
smiths  or  blacksmiths  or  something!" 

Edgar  bit  his  lip  until  it  pained. 

"Exactly,"  he  said  when  he  could  find  his  voice. 
' '  Why  do  you  suppose  she  did  it  ?  That  's  what  I  'd 
like  to  know.  Also,  you  understand,  she  invited  them 
to  lunch  with  her." 

"I  shall  not  be  surprised,  now,  if  she  goes  so  far  as 
to  invite  me  to  meet  them!  To  meet  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Dreary ! ' ' 

"Her  reason  can't  be,  you  know,  that  she  wishes  to 
aid  and  abet  her  brother  in  his  employing  Miss 
Dreary,  for  Theodora  holds  herself  absolutely  aloof, 
on  principle,  from  the  cause  Jordan  works  for." 

"Don't  you  see,  my  dear?  She  is  afraid  of  the 
little  Jezebel — her  brother  is  so  evidently  infatu 
ated!" 

"Nonsense!"  retorted  Edgar,  flushing  hotly. 
"He's  old  enough  to  be  her  great  grandfather.  You 
have  no  ground  for  such  an  assumption!  And 
Miss  Dreary  is  as  far  from  being  a  Jezebel  as  Theodora 
herself!" 

301 


Barnabetta 

"Which,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  inwardly  commented, 
"isn't  very  far!" 

When,  a  few  days  before,  Edgar  had  told  her  of 
his  bewilderment  over  the  apparently  dishonorable 
behavior  of  Judge  Jordan  in  regard  to  the  library 
position,  she  had  at  once  recognized  Theodora's  hand 
in  it  and  had  realized  at  the  same  time  how  fatally 
that  young  woman's  scheming  had  defeated  the  very 
ends  she  had  schemed  for;  had,  in  fact,  played  right 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy — necessitating  further 
and  deeper  scheming  to  swing  things  back  as  she 
wished  to  have  them. 

"Theodora's  idea,  I  think,"  she  explained,  "is  to 
show  up  these  people  to  David  in  all  their  crudity,  as 
it  will  inevitably  come  out  at  the  luncheon.  The  girl 
of  course  has  a  bit  of  education.  But  the  mother  is, 
I  suppose,  very  bad  ? ' ' 

"She  is  not  Barnabetta 's  own  mother,  remember." 

"Her  own  mother  was  probably  much  worse!"  re 
torted  Mrs.  Winthrop. 

"Theodora  is  above  such  petty  maneuvering,  Eliz 
abeth!" 

Mrs.  Winthrop  repressed  another  laugh.  "Theo 
dora  is  only  acting  in  self-defense,  Edgar,"  she  an 
swered  earnestly,  "and  trying  to  protect  her  brother 
from  a  great  mistake — and  save  for  herself  and  her 
future  husband  her  own  rightful  inheritance— in 
stead,  ' '  she  added  warmly, ' '  of  standing  by  and  letting 
it  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  Drearys !  I  'm  sure  she 

302 


Enter,  Mrs.  Dreary 

is  not  to  be  criticized  in  the  least  for  resorting  to  a 
bit  of  diplomacy  for  such  legitimate  ends ! ' ' 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Edgar  coldly,  his  fingers  un 
consciously  crushing  hard  a  piece  of  bread.  He 
looked  so  white  and  miserable  that  Elizabeth  was 
moved  to  compassion.  But  her  recognition  of  the 
seriousness  of  his  feeling  for  the  person  called  "Bar- 
nabetta,"  strengthened  her  resolution  to  prevent,  at 
all  hazards,  his  "ruining  himself." 


303 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

BARRETT    COMMITS   HIMSELF 

BARRETT  did  not  see  Barnabetta  again  until  the 
day  after  the  luncheon  at  the  Jordans' — when 
they  happened,  that  morning,  to  meet  on  the  street. 
He  stopped  her  and,  acting  impulsively,  asked  her  to 
go  with  him  for  a  country  walk. 

He  noticed  very  soon,  as  they  talked,  that  a  change 
had  come  over  her — a  bright  radiance  seemed  to  en 
velop  her,  a  gentle  joyousness  to  possess  her. 

He  was  curious,  knowing  she  had  never  in  her  life 
seen  anything  better  than  her  stepmother's  taste,  to 
learn  her  impressions  of  the  Jordans'  beautiful  home. 

"It  is  like  a  fairy  palace,  is  n't  it?"  she  said  almost 
with  awe  when  she  referred  to  this,  her  very  first, 
social  experience.  "To  live  in  such  a  house  would 
be  like  a  dream  to  me — it  couldn't  seem  real!  Peo 
ple  like  the  Jordans — and  you,  Dr.  Barrett — that  have 
always  had  beautiful  things,  can't  get  the  wonderful 
pleasure  from  them  that  a  person  like  me  gets  when 
now  and  then  they  come  to  me." 

' '  One 's  pleasure  becomes  negative — we  chafe  at  the 
absence  of  beauty  and  comfort.  An  effete  state,  per 
haps!" 

304 


Barrett  Commits  Himself 

"Then — "  she  hesitated — "there  is  another  thing 
in  which  a  person  like  me  has  the  advantage  of  people 
like  you  and  the  Jordans. ' ' 

"Well?" 

"Do  you  know — "  she  seemed  to  grope  for  an  ex 
pression  of  frer  thought — "I  don't  believe  I  ever 
dream  of  feeling  superior  to  any  one — except  per 
haps,"  she  added  most  unexpectedly,  "to  those  little 
people  who  feel  superior  to  me!" 

Barrett  did  not  at  once  respond.  Was  she  thrust 
ing  at  him?  They  walked  in  silence  for  a  few  mo 
ments  along  the  narrow  path  that  ran  through  the 
woods  which  skirted  one  end  of  Middletonl 

"Have  you  ever,"  he  casually  inquired  after  a 
moment,  "met  any  who  took  that  tone  to  you — of 
superiority  ? ' ' 

"There  was  something  of  that  among  the  college 
students — at  first." 

"I  am  sure  there  was  none  of  it  at  the  last?" 

"I  did  n't  really  notice  when  it  began  to  disappear. 
It  never  hurt  me  much.  The  girls  who  acted  that 
way  seemed  to  me  just  vulgar  and  unkind.  And 
when  you,  from  the  very  first,  gave  me  your  friend 
ship,  how  could  I  care  what  the  others  felt  about 
me?" 

"There  is,  I  grant  you,  Barnabetta,  in  good  society, 
a  lot  of  what  I  know  would  seem  to  you  just  conven 
tionalized  vulgarity." 

"  To  me  ?    Surely  to  you  too  ? " 
305 


Barnabetta 

"Our  point  of  view  is  perhaps  hardly  the  same." 

"About  real  things?"  she  protested. 

"I  'm  afraid  some  things  seem  very  real  to  me  that 
have  never  entered  into  your  philosophy  of  life,  Bar 
nabetta  ! ' ' 

"I  'm  afraid  so  too.  I  've  often  thought  so,"  she 
agreed  with  a  little  sigh. 

"Oh,  you  have?"  He  felt  it  expedient  to  get  away 
from  such  thin  ice.  "Tell  me  more  of  your  visit  to 
the  Jordans,"  he  suggested. 

"Poor  Judge  Jordan!" 

"What?" 

"In  his  own  home  he  seems  nothing  but  a  detail 
of  the  furnishing !  I  could  not  get  the  big  collie  idea 
out  of  my  head  as  I  watched  him  and  his  sister.  I 
think  his  sister's  real  feeling  about  him  if  put  into 
words  would  read  something  like  this: — 'I  sometimes 
think  I  won't  keep  a  dog — they  're  handy  to  have 
about  a  house,  but  a  great  care ! '  ' 

"Barnabetta!"  Barrett  grinned — though  at  a  cer 
tain  intensity  in  her  tone  he  felt  far  from  being 
amused. 

"Mind,  I  don't  say  that  Miss  Jordan  does  n't  faith 
fully  see  that  he  gets  his  dog-biscuit  and  his  bath  once 
a  week!  Otherwise,  Mr.  Boffin  would  come  up! 
The  sister  is  so  sentimentally  genteel, — and  the  man 
yearning,  I  thought,  for  a  large  littered  room  where 
he  might  be  comfy  if  he  chose ! ' ' 

Barrett  glanced  down  at  the  flushed  face  at  his 
306 


Barrett  Commits  Himself 

side.     He  had  never  seen  her  like  this.    What  new 
phases  she  daily  developed! 

"  'Genteel'  is  hardly  a  word  one  would  apply  to 
Miss  Jordan!"  he  objected. 

"Not  to  her;  to  her  sentiments;  she  oozes  genteel 
sentimentality  from  every  pore ! ' ' 

"You  don't  like  her  then?" 

"She  gives  me  too  much  the  impression  of  having 
been  always  a  big  person  among  little  people.  It  has 
made  her  little. ' ' 

"Miss  Jordan  'little'?" 

"Too  little,  anyway,  to  recognize  how  very  big  her 
brother  is,  poor  dear  man ! ' ' 

"Your  sympathy  for  Judge  Jordan  seems  to  me 
quite  uncalled  for, ' '  said  Barrett  coldly. 

She  raised  troubled  eyes  to  his.  "Does  it?"  she 
asked  with  a  momentary  sadness.  "Miss  Jordan  has 
always  been  on  a  pedestal  in  my  imagination,  but  it 
now  seems  to  me  I  have  found  that  my  idol  has  feet 
of  clay — while  her  brother  is  just  pure  gold  all  through 
—the  dear!" 

"You  will  be  misunderstood  if  you  talk  like  that!" 
he  reproved  her  almost  sternly. 

"By  you?     I  am  talking  to  you." 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  understand  this  mis 
placed  enthusiasm  over  a  fat,  middle-aged,  foolish — " 

"Oh!"  she  protested,  "he  isn't  fat,  he  isn't  fool 
ish!" 

"You  can't  deny  he  is  middle-aged!" 
307 


Barnabetta 

"Why  shouldn't  he  be  middle-aged?" 

"To  be  sure,"  shrugged  Barrett,  "no  one  has  a 
better  right!" 

They  had  stopped  in  the  path,  in  the  solitude  of 
the  dense  woodland,  and  were  regarding  each  other 
antagonistically.  She  did  not  dream  that  her  un 
wonted  flash  of  anger  made  her  in  his  eyes — too  much 
accustomed  to  subservient  flattery — more  alluring 
than  he  had  ever  found  her  before. 

Suddenly — he  could  not  resist  her — he  took  her 
two  hands  into  his  and  drew  her  to  him,  enfolded  her, 
lifted  her  startled  face  and  pressed  upon  her  lips  a 
long,  lingering  kiss.  Again  and  again  he  kissed  her 
— self-condemnation  at  what  he  was  doing  mingling 
with  ecstasy  in  doing  it;  for  it  was  this  that  he  had 
been  hungering  to  do  ever  since  his  eyes  had  first 
beheld  her ;  and  here,  in  the  solitude  of  the  woods,  her 
dear  head  on  his  breast,  he  fed  to  the  full  his  passion 
ate  hunger  for  her  lips. 


308 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

BARRETT'S  STRUGGLE 

THAT  afternoon,  shut  up  in  his  own  room,  Bar 
rett,  pacing  the  floor  by  the  hour,  fought  it  out 
with  himself.  His  sister  herself  could  not  more  keenly 
have  felt  the  incongruity,  the  madness,  of  what  he 
was  tempted  to  do ;  her  pride  of  heritage  was  not  more 
inordinate;  her  prejudices  not  more  deeply  rooted, 
than  his  own. 

Yet  he  realized,  as  his  sister's  spiritual  obsessions 
would  never  permit  her  to  do,  that  Barnabetta's  ap 
peal  was  to  the  best,  the  finest  in  him — to  those  culti 
vated  instincts  which  had  recognized,  from  the  first, 
beneath  all  her  crudity,  her  essential  quality;  the 
something  exquisite  and  true  in  the  girl's  soul  that 
penetrated,  haunted,  possessed  him. 

He  was  so  constituted  that  he  shrank  instinctively 
from  any  least  physical  contact  with  low-born,  vulgar 
people.  But  about  Barnabetta  he  had  always  had  a 
whimsical  fancy  that  the  beauty  of  the  soul  informing 
her  young  body,  transformed  her  very  flesh  to  that 
rare  being — one  of  Nature's  aristocrats — so  much  more 
rare  and  fine  than  the  species  the  world  creates  and 
fosters ! 

309 


Barnabetta 

"And  yet,"  he  writhed,  "Mrs.  Dreary  my  mother- 
in-law!  Great  God!" 

From  the  depths  of  his  soul,  he  wished  that  Barna 
betta  had  never  crossed  his  path.  He  knew,  of  course, 
that  it  was  only  his  feeling  for  her  that  had  held  him 
back  from  long  since  having  put  to  the  test  his  chance 
with  Theodora.  For,  as  an  accompaniment  to  the 
purely  intellectual  admiration  Theodora  inspired,  her 
beauty  and  charm  had  always  roused  in  him  delicate 
thrills  of  passion,  strong  enough,  perhaps,  to  have 
justified  marriage. 

Barnabetta,  however,  awakened  in  him  an  elemental 
force  of  feeling  which  he  had  not  dreamed  he  was 
capable  of — tethered  as  it  had  been  through  all  the 
years  of  his  manhood  by  the  restraining,  subduing 
influences  of  culture.  And  now,  reacting  from  the 
long  repression  of  his  emotional  life,  his  whole  being 
fiercely  demanded  possession  of  the  woman  of  his 
desire,  and  would  not  be  denied.  Why,  if  she,  simple 
child  that  she  was,  could  know  what  he  felt  for  her, 
how  savagely  he  yearned  for  her,  surely  she  would 
draw  back  afraid,  appalled! 

"The  curse  upon  man,"  he  bitterly  reflected,  "was 
not  that  he  should  earn  his  bread  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow — there  's  no  curse  in  that — but  that  he 
should  be  pursued,  goaded,  hounded,  by  the  passion  of 
love!" 

For  Barrett  had  reached  the  point  where  he  knew 
he  could  hold  out  no  longer.  The  lure  of  Barnabetta, 

310 


Barrett's  Struggle 

had  won  against  odds  he  had  considered  the  uncon 
querable  elements  of  his  soul.  He  simply  could  not 
go  on  living  without  her — without  this  unsophisticated 
daughter  of  a  village  tinsmith! 

It  was  with  strangely  mingled  relief  and  despair 
that  he  came  to  this  conclusion.  Perhaps  there  is  al 
ways  a  sense  of  relief  in  despair — the  acceptance  of 
the  inevitable  means  the  relaxing  of  a  strain. 

He  knew,  as  clearly  as  his  sister  knew,  that  in  the 
future  he  would  regret  a  thousand  times  what  he  was 
about  to  do.  "With  passionate  sorrow  he  would  re 
gret  it — for  Barnabetta's  sake  as  for  his  own.  But 
he  knew,  too,  that  nothing  under  the  sun  could  hold 
him  back. 

It  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  at  last,  towards 
the  end  of  the  afternoon,  white  and  resolute,  he  came 
forth  from  his  room  to  go  straight  to  his  sister. 

He  found  her  on  the  wide,  shady  piazza  overlook 
ing  the  campus,  reading  her  blessed  Boston  Tran 
script. 

His  struggle  with  himself  had  been  so  strenuous,  so 
fundamental,  that  by  comparison,  his  conflict  with 
Elizabeth,  long  and  painful  as  it  was,  was  easy  to  meet 
with  unwavering  self-control. 

"Go  to  see  her,  Elizabeth,  and  you  will  under 
stand,"  was  his  reiterated  advice — though  he  did  not 
believe,  really,  that  anything  could  make  her  under 
stand. 

"Go  to  see  Mrs.  and  Miss  Dreary?  I?  Be  as- 
311 


Sured  that  if  you  persist  in  bringing  this  mortification 
upon  our  family,  neither  my  daughter  nor  I  will  ever 
recognize  these  people  as  connections !  And  you  have 
the  effrontery,  Edgar,  to  ask  me  to  call  on  them! 
Why  should  I,  please?" 

"Then  don't,  Elizabeth.  Nothing  you  do  or  leave 
undone  can  alter  my  decision. ' ' 

"This  is  the  consideration  you  think  due  me  for 
exiling  myself  for  two  years  for  your  sake,  in  this 
miserable  little  town?" 

"My  sense  of  obligation  will  not  take  the  form 
of  allowing  you  to  choose  a  wife  for  me ! " 

"You  have,  in  honor,  already  chosen!  Your  de 
voted  attentions  to  Theodora  for  two  years  do  not 
leave  you  free  to  marry  this  country  girl!" 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  Theodora  cares  for  me 
in  that  way." 

"Aren't  you? — poor  innocent  lamb!"  she  retorted 
scathingly — but  she  quickly  repressed  this  injudicious 
scorn  of  his  blindness  as  to  Theodora.  "And  you  are 
sure,  are  you,"  she  continued  ironically,  "that  the 
tinsmith's  daughter  does  reciprocate  the  ardent  pas 
sion  of — Edgar  Barrett  of  the  Boston  Barretts? 
Great  heavens,  Edgar,  you  must  be  crazy!" 

' '  Love  is  a  madness ! "  he  readily  granted. 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't  feel  at  all  bound  to 
Theodora?" 

"Not  even  apologetic." 

"Where  is  your  sense  of  honor?" 
312 


Barrett's  Struggle 

"Departed  with  my  prudence  and  common  sense, 
perhaps.  Understand,  Elizabeth — nothing  can  weigh 
with  me  against  my  determination  to  marry  Miss 
Dreary." 

"Fancy  your  wedding  announcements — 'Mrs.  Bar- 
naby  Dreary  announces  the  marriage  of  her  daughter, 
Barnabetta,  to  Dr.  Edgar  Holmes  Barrett!' — she 
broke  off  with  a  derisive  peal  of  laughter. 

Edgar  did  not  turn  a  hair. 

"Can't  you  see,  Edgar,  the  wild  amusement  of 
our  clan?" 

"To  the  devil  with  the  clan!" 

"I  see  the  effect  already,"  she  remarked  coldly, 
' '  of  your  vulgar  associations ! ' ' 

Before  he  could  reply,  their  attention  was  suddenly 
caught  by  a  slouching  figure  coming  up  the^krag  path 
leading  from  the  public  highway  to  the  piazza  where 
they  sat — a  country  youth  in  holiday  attire,  as  was 
attested  by  his  spick  and  span  "store  suit"  of  awk 
ward  cut,  his  festive  looking  necktie  and  hose,  and  his 
shoes  of  glaring  yellow. 

His  shyness  in  accosting  the  lady  and  gentleman 
on  the  piazza  took  the  form  of  a  surly  gruffness. 

"Is  this  here  where  the  boss  of  the  female  institoo- 
tion  lives  at?"  he  demanded  rather  than  inquired. 

"The  President  of  Stevens  College  lives  here,"  an 
swered  Barrett. 

"Are  you  him,  then,  mebby? — heh?" 

' '  Yes.    What  is  it  you  want  2 ' ' 
313 


Barnabetta 

"Why,  fur  to  ast  you  to  show  me  where  my  sister 
and  my  stepmother  lives  at." 

"How  should  I  know,  young  man?" 

"Did  n't  you  know  they  had  a  flittin'  and  that  they 
come  here  to  live?" 

"A 'flittin"?" 

' '  Yes,  from  Reinhartz  to  Middleton  over. ' ' 

"Your  sister  and  your  stepmother?"  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  quickly  interposed,  a  touch  of  eagerness  in  her 
tone,  while  Barrett  felt  himself  turn  cold. 

"Yes,  I  come  from  Reinhartz  over  to  anyhow  see 
'em  oncst,  and  I  don't  know  right  where  they  live 
at." 

"You  mean  Mrs.  and  Miss  Dreary?"  Mrs.  Win- 
throp  demanded,  repressing  her  elation  at  this  un 
looked-for  development,  this  powerful  argument 
embodied  in  the  flesh,  against  her  brother's  folly. 
The  hand  of  Providence  was  in  it,  she  piously  recog 
nized. 

"To  be  sure,"  returned  the  young  man,  "it  's 
Barnabetta  Dreary  where  's  my  sister.  I  'm  her 
brother  Jake.  She  's  been  comin'  here  to  this  here 
female  cemetery  this  good  while  back  a 'ready  to  git 
good  educated." 

"And  you  have  come  to  visit  your  sister?"  Mrs. 
Winthrop  kindly  inquired.  ' '  Sit  down,  won 't  you  ? ' ' 
she  urged,  determined  to  make  the  most  of  this  happy 
chance  to  show  Edgar  what  he  was  letting  himself  in 
for. 

314 


Barrett's  Struggle 

"Naw — I  can't  set  awhile.  It  's  near  time  to  eat. 
Don't  you  know  where  the  folks  lives  at?" 

' '  Dr.  Barrett  knows — he  will  show  you.  Shall  you 
stop  in  Middleton  long?" 

"Whether  I  stay  long?  Well,  I  don't  know  if  I 
do.  I  have  to  see  oncet.  I  lived  at  my  married 
brother's  there  fur  a  while,  but  his  Missus  she  's  so 
ugly-dispositioned  that  way — she  must  be  paid  extry 
fur  washin'  and  ironin'  and  mendin'  fur  me  and  she 
didn't  want  to  pack  my  dinner-box  no  more — she 
sayed  now  I  was  to  buy  my  dinner  at  the  ca/fee  in 
Lebanon — she  wouldn't  be  bothered.  So  I  just  up 
and  sayed  I  'd  go  at  boardin'  then!  But  at  the  new 
boardin '-house  they  was  full  up.  And  at  the  ho-tel 
it  costs  too  expensive.  So  I  come  to  git  Barnabetta 
to  come  back  and  housekeep  fur  me — now  she  's 
through  gittin'  this  here  education  a 'ready.  If  I  kin 
git  her  away  from  my  stepmom  oncet,  she  's  better 
manageable. ' ' 

"Why  don't  you  get  married  yourself?"  Barrett 
curtly  suggested,  his  face  stony. 

"Well,  there  for  a  while  I  conceited  I  would  yet. 
I  set  up  three  or  four  Sunday  nights  with  Liz  Schna- 
bel  and  oncet  I  took  her  buggy-ridin'.  Then  here 
one  day,  our  Emanuel  he  says  to  me,  '  Jakey,  did  you 
ast  her  yet?'  'No,  we  ain't  promised,'  I  says.  'I 
ain't  sure,  yet,  that  I  '11  feel  fur  astin'  her.'  'Well,' 
he  says,  'if  you  ain't  done  it  yet,  don't  did  it.  Women 
ain't  what  they  was!  These  days,'  he  says,  'they  're 

315 


Barnabetta 

just  an  extry  expense,'  he  says.  Well,  that  gimme 
cold  feet  and  I  quit  goin '  to  see  Liz  Schnabel. ' ' 

He  was  checked  by  the  noise  of  an  automobile  com 
ing  around  the  driveway  to  the  front  of  the  house — 
and  the  next  instant,  to  Barrett's  further  petrifac 
tion,  Theodora  alighted  and  came  up  the  steps. 

Barrett  rose  to  give  her  his  chair  and  Mrs.  Win- 
throp,  with  ill-concealed  malice,  at  once  presented  the 
young  man  from  Reinhartz. 

"The  brother  of  your  new  friends,  Theodora,  my 
dear — Mr.  Dreary." 

"Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  said  poor 
Jake  bashfully,  his  eyes  held  by  the  slim,  graceful 
figure  and  fine,  beautiful  face  of  the  young  lady  be 
fore  him. 

Theodora,  as  she  distantly  bowed,  gazed  at  the  bu 
colic  youth  mournfully. 

"Well,"  said  Jake,  "I  ain't  used  to  sich  tony  folks, 
so  I  guess  I  better  be  goin'  then.  It  's  anyhow  near 
time  to  eat;  ain't?" 

Edgar  promptly  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  piazza 
and  directed  him  to  the  Drearys'  cottage;  and  Jacob 
took  his  leave. 

When  Barrett  turned  back  to  the  piazza,  he  found 
that  his  sister  had  excused  herself  and  gone  indoors; 
he  was  alone  with  Theodora. 

Meantime,  Mrs.  Winthrop,  in  her  own  room,  dress 
ing  for  dinner,  was  assuring  herself  that  in  a  reaction 
of  utter  disgust,  Edgar  would  certainly  now  insure 

316 


Barrett's  Struggle 


himself  against  any  further  temptations  to  idiocy,  by 
promptly  betrothing  himself  to  his  eminently  suit 
able  mate,  Theodora  Jordan. 

But  when  later,  she  met  him  again  at  dinner,  his 
still  stony  aspect  told  her  nothing. 

"Edgar?"  she  said  questioningly. 

"Well?" 

"You  have  nothing  to — to  tell  me?" 

"As  to  what?" 

Their  eyes  met  challengingly. 

"You  haven't  changed  your  mind?"  she  de 
manded.  "You  mean  to  ask  the  sister  of  that  hood 
lum  to  marry  you?" 

"I  told  you  there  was  nothing  that  could  stop  me. 
Am  I  given  to  speaking  idly?" 

Mrs.  "Winthrop  knew,  then,  that  so  far  as  checking 
him  was  concerned  all  hope  was  over. 

Next  morning,  however,  at  the  earliest  permissible 
hour,  she  would  go  to  the  girl  herself. 


317 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

HE   TAKES   THE  PLUNGE 

BARNABETTA  sat  in  a  low  chair  before  the 
draped  mantelpiece  of  her  mother's  cottage 
and  Barrett,  tall  and  distinguished-looking  in  even 
ing  dress  (for  he  had  come  straight  from  dining  with 
his  sister),  stood  before  her,  his  elbow  on  the  draped 
mantel,  his  eyes  upon  the  young  girl  in  the  low  chair 
at  his  feet,  his  face  grim,  determined,  white  to  the 
lips. 

Barnabetta  gazed  up  at  him,  a  troubled  sympathy 
in  her  eyes.  "You  look  so  unhappy  to-night,"  she 
said  solicitously.  "  Would  it  help  you  to  tell  me 
what  's  the  matter?" 

"What  disposition  have  you  made  of  your  brother, 
Barnabetta?" 

He  felt  a  pang  for  her  as  he  asked  the  question,  for 
surely  she  must  suffer  much  mortification  in  such  a 
relative.  But  though  his  question  brought  forth  a 
tired  sigh,  she  did  not  seem  to  wince. 

"Jacob  told  us  he  had  seen  you  and  had  poured  out 
to  you  all  his  troubles!  We  have  had  a  hard  time 
convincing  him  that  he  will  have  to  make  up  his  mind 
to  the  expense  of  living  at  the  Reinhartz  Hotel  until 

318 


He  Takes  the  Plunge 

he  decides  to  marry.  He  can  easily  afford  it,  but  he 
is  what  my  people  call  'close.'  I  tell  him  that  his 
having  to  pay  his  board  at  the  hotel  will  help  him  to 
get  over  my  long  years  of  spoiling  him;  it  will  make 
him  fit  to  be  some  nice  girl's  husband.  He  won't  be 
fit  until  he  gets  over  my  spoiling. ' ' 

' '  He  goes  back,  then,  at  once,  to  Reinhartz  ? ' ' 

" To-morrow  morning." 

' '  I  once  criticized  you  in  my  heart,  Barnabetta,  for 
seeming  unsisterly.  I  understand  now." 

"Yes?" 

' '  Of  course, ' '  he  said  deliberately,  a  slight  hardness 
in  his  tone,  "I  can't  help  being  thankful  that  your 
relations  with  your  people  are  not  very  close." 

"It  is  better  so,"  she  agreed,  "for  them  and  for 
me." 

"Decidedly." 

They  were  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she  asked 
gently,  "Can't  you  tell  me  what  is  troubling  you? — 
making  you  so  unhappy?" 

"I  am  here  to-night  to  tell  you  that,  to  tell  you 
everything — to  lay  bare  my  soul  to  you,  Barnabetta! 
Surely  you  expected  me — after  this  morning?" 

"Yes — I  expected  you — after  this  morning." 

She  spoke  so  quietly,  so  assuredly!  She  did  not 
even  change  color.  Unacknowledged  to  himself  was 
his  secret  feeling  that  she  would  be  overwhelmed  and 
transported  by  the  condescension,  the  heroic  self-sac 
rifice,  of  his  love  for  her.  He  did  not  dream  that  she 

319 


Barnabetta 

would  take  any  other  view  of  it.  Then  why  this  un 
ruffled  demeanor,  this  serene  confidence  with  which 
she  informed  him  that  of  course  she  had  expected 
him — after  this  morning?  Was  she  so  entirely  sure 
of  him? — he  wondered  with  a  twinge  of  bitterness. 
But  no! — his  truer  self  defended  her.  It  was  her 
ideal  of  his  honor  that  had  made  her  sure  he  would 
not  fail  her — after  this  morning.  Her  confidence  was 
the  highest  compliment  she  could  pay  him. 

"I  am  here  to  ask  you  to  help  me,  dear — we  must 
help  each  other!"  he  broke  forth  from  the  depths  of 
his  harassed  soul.  "Dearest,  we  '11  need  to  help  each 
other! — yes,  all  the  rest  of  our  days!" 

Her  troubled  eyes  still  gazed  up  into  his,  but  their 
sympathy  was  changed,  now,  to  bewilderment. 

"I  would  rather  give  up  everything  else  in  the 
world,  Barnabetta,  than  give  up  you!  It  would  be 
insincere  and  indeed  useless  for  me  to  try  to  conceal 
from  you  what  you  must  all  along  have  seen  for 
yourself — my  long,  hard  struggle  with  myself.  But 
I  love  you  too  deeply!  My  life  would  be  worthless 
to  me,  dear,  without  you  at  my  side ! ' ' 

"I  have  seen  your  'long,  hard  struggle'?  "  she 
repeated  wonderingly.  "No."  She  shook  her  head. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  must  know  what  I  mean,  dear,"  he  insisted 
with  puritanic  truthfulness;  "the  conflict  of  my 
overwhelming  love  for  you  against  the — the  differ 
ences  between  us,  Barnabetta !  I  would  not  hurt  you, 

320 


He  Takes  the  Plunge 

dear,  but  for  the  sake  of  our  future  peace,  we  must 
not  begin  our  life  together  with  any  lack  of  can 
dor." 

She  considered  this  for  a  moment  with  puckered 
brow. 

"What  you  mean  by  our  'differences'  would  be, 
after  all,  unimportant,  wouldn't  they?"  she  asked, 
"in  the  light  of  such  a  real  thing  as  a  great  love?" 

"Darling!"  he  said  tenderly,  "you  don't  need  to 
plead  for  yourself!  Haven't  I  told  you  that  love 
has  conquered?" 

"But  conquered  what?  I  see  our  differences — yes, 
indeed,  I  see  them — they  are  plain  enough.  But  that 
they  should  call  for  'struggle,'  for  'conflict'?  Have 
you  really,  as  you  seem  to  say,  struggled  hard  and 
long  against  your — 'overwhelming  love'  for  me?" 

The  childlike  innocence  of  her  face  as  she  puzzled 
over  it,  convinced  him  of  the  sincerity  of  her  ques 
tion.  She  actually  did  not  quite  understand. 

"And  you  speak,"  she  continued,  "of  being  willing 
to  give  up  things  for  the  sake  of  having  me  at  your 
side.  What  things?" 

"Nothing  I  could  count  against  the  happiness  of 
cherishing  you,  dear!" 

"But,  then,  why  was  there  a  conflict,  a  struggle? 
Do  you  really  mean  that  the  trivial  differences  in 
our  up-bringing  led  you  to  fight  hard  against  a  great 
and  real  experience  of  your  soul? — such  as  I  should 
think  '  love '  would  be  with — with  a  man  like  you  ? ' ' 

321 


Barnabetta 

His  ardor  underwent  a  slight  chill  at  her  cool,  an 
alytical  catechism. 

"  'Trivial  differences,'  dear?"  he  repeated  dubi 
ously. 

"They  don't  seem  to  you  trivial?" 

"I  am  afraid  they  do  not,  dearest!"  he  replied  very 
tenderly.  "Better  for  all  our  future  if  you  recog 
nize  at  once  that  they  are  not  trivial;  that  the  diffi 
culty  of  adjusting  our  lives  harmoniously,  will  lie  in 
just  that — our  mutual  recognition  of  our  differences. ' ' 

"It  is  'our  differences,'  then,  that  make  your — . 
'love' — a  terrible  thing  to  you?  You  have  struggled 
hard  against  falling  in  love  with  a  green  country 
girl?" 

"I  will  be  perfectly  honest  with  you,  Barnabetta — • 
I  love  and  honor  you  too  much  not  to  be  so — yes,  the 
strength  of  my  love  for  you  is  measured  by  the  real 
ization  I  have  of  all  that  stands  in  the  way  of  its 
happy  fulfilment.  That  my  love  does  not  blind  me 
to  those  impediments  and  yet  is  too  strong  to  let  them 
conquer — that  is  my  reason  for  being  here  to-night." 

"I  see." 

' '  I  knew  that  you  must  see,  dearest. ' ' 

"And  you  do  not  see,"  she  smiled  a  bit  sadly, 
"that  what  is  really  contemptible  is  not  my  origin 
and  '  difference, ' — but  your  feeling  about  them ! ' ' 

He  flushed  painfully.  How  often  had  her  uncon 
scious  thrusts  pierced  his  self-esteem  with  a  sense  of 
his  own  littleness! — and  how  invariably  when  so  be- 

322 


He  Takes  the  Plunge 

littled  in  his  own  eyes,  she  had  become  to  him  more 
than  ever  desirable! 

"Suppose,  Dr.  Barrett,  you  should  suddenly  dis 
cover  that  your  grandfather  had  been  a — well,  a  tin 
smith — would  you  be  any  the  less  you?" 

"Had  my  grandfather  been  a — a  tinsmith — • 
I  should n 't  be  I  at  all!" 

"Perhaps  not.  Possibly  you  'd  be  spiritually  more 
robust.  Less — flimsy,  perhaps." 

He  looked  at  her  fixedly  for  an  instant. 

"I  came  here  to-night,  Barnabetta,  to  ask  you  to 
be  my  wife!" 

"I  have  gathered  that  from  your  remarks."  Her 
tone  was  all  sweetness. 

"Well,  Barnabetta?" 

"Well,  Dr.  Barrett?" 

"What  is  my  answer,  Barnabetta?" 

"You  are  now  'proposing,'  as  they  say — to  me,  are 
you,  Dr.  Barrett?" 

"Dear!     You  have  understood  that  all  along!" 

1 '  Some  things  you  've  said  have  almost  misled  me ! 
You  see,  I  am  as  inexperienced  in  proposals  of  mar 
riage  as  in  many  other  things.  This  is  my  first. 
Except  Abel  Buchter's." 

"Barnabetta !  I  am  perfectly  sincere  in  asking  you 
to  marry  me." 

"I  am  sure  you  were  never  insincere  in  your  life." 

' '  I  would  devote  my  life  to  making  you  happy. ' ' 

"A  poor  purpose  in  life  for  a  man !  I  'm  not  worth 
323 


Barnabetta 

it — a  tinsmith's  daughter.  But  I  'm  afraid  your  re 
alization  of  'our  differences'  would  make  happiness  in 
marriage  impossible  to  us,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"I  shall  be  infinitely  happier  than  I  could  be  with 
out  you — I  know  that!"  he  affirmed  confidently. 

"I  see  how  well  you  have  weighed  it.  How  much 
it  sounds  like  my  brother  Jacob's  way  of  looking  at 
marriage ! ' ' 

He  flushed  deeply. 

"Dearest!"  he  said  after  an  instant's  eloquent  si 
lence,  "do  you  doubt  that  your  happiness  would  be 
the  first  and  dearest  object  of  my  life?" 

"And  you  start  out  by  pointing  out  our  great 
differences?  Oh,  no,  no,  Dr.  Barrett,  we  could  never 
make  each  other  happy!  I  see,  now,  with  you,  that 
those  differences  are  indeed  real — you  have  made 
me  see  how  real.  A  few  weeks  ago  I  think  I  would 
have  felt  that  you  honored  me  far,  far  too  much  in 
asking  me  to  be  your  wife!  But  now — " 

"And  now?" 

"Well,  you  will  be  surprised  to  hear  it,  but — I 
look  higher." 

"'Higher?'" 

"For  a  husband  who  shall  think  me  at  least  his 
equal.  "Who  will  not  feel  that  he  can  love  me  only 
at  a  fearful  cost.  A\ho  does  not  come  to  me,  to  ask 
me  to  marry  him,  with  the  pale,  grim  look  of  a  man 
about  to  be  hanged!" 

"Barnabetta!"  He  took  a  step  towards  her,  but 
324 


He  Takes  the  Plunge 

rising,  she  stood  at  a  distance  from  him — and  he 
stopped. 

"I  have  hurt  you!"  he  miserably  pleaded. 

"No — indeed  no.  Be  comforted — you  could  not 
hurt  me — now." 

"I  have  offended  you  by  my  too  great  frankness!" 

"I  thank  you  from  my  heart  for  your  frankness 
— in  opening  my  eyes  to  our  differences. ' ' 

"You  say  you  'look  higher'?"  In  spite  of  himself 
there  was  a  note  of  incredulity  in  his  voice. 

"Much,  much  higher,  Dr.  Barrett." 

"You  do  not  love  me,  Barnabetta?" 

"No,"  she  gravely  answered. 

"But  surely  you  have  known  how  I  love  youf" 

"Until  this  morning,  I  thought  you  loved  Miss 
Jordan. '  * 

"It  is  you  I  have  always  loved — since  the  first  hour 
I  ever  looked  into  your  face !  Surely  your  friendship 
can  ripen  into  love,  Barnabetta?" 

"It  might  have — until  this  hour.  But  you  have 
revealed  yourself  to  me  as  seeing  life  so  strangely — 
seeing  big  things  small  and  small  things  big — that 
you  do  not  seem  to  me  the  friend  I  have  thought  so 
wonderful — and  almost  worshiped!  I  see  now  how 
far  apart  you  and  I  are — and  always  would  be.  We 
would  be  very,  very  unhappy  together ! ' ' 

To  Edgar  Barrett,  the  bitter  hour  that  followed, 
during  which  he  strove  with  this  maiden  who — to 
his  consternation,  to  the  upheaval  of  his  very  being 

325 


Barnabetta 

— would  have  none  of  him,  left  him,  at  the  end  of  that 
evening,  aged  by  years. 

And  when  later  that  night,  Barnabetta  found  her 
self  alone,  feeling  worn  and  sad  after  her  long  hour 
of  painful  and  pitying  but  firm  withstanding  of  Bar 
rett's  passionate  wooing,  she  little  dreamed  that  her 
refusal  to  marry  him  had  enthroned  her  forever,  as 
the  queen  of  all  women,  in  Edgar  Barrett's  soul. 


326 


CHAPTER  XL 

MRS.    WINTHROP    AND    BARNABETTA 

PROMPTLY  next  morning,  with  firm,  relentless 
purpose,  Mrs.  Winthrop  betook  herself  to  the 
Drearys'  cottage. 

She  suspected  that  Edgar  had  been  there  the  night 
before.  She  had  not  seen  him  since.  He  had  not 
come  to  breakfast.  Doubtless  if  he  actually  had  gone 
and  engaged  himself  to  the  girl,  he  was  ashamed  to 
show  himself!  And  well  he  might  be!  Well,  she 
would  save  him  from  himself,  from  his  awful  folly — 
and  some  day  how  he  would  thank  her ! 

Her  ring  at  the  Drearys'  cottage  was  answered  by 
a  negro  maid.  Mrs.  Winthrop,  who  had  decided  that 
she  did  not  care  to  have  her  visiting  card  displayed 
by  the  Drearys,  merely  asked  to  see  Miss  Dreary,  and 
passed  into  the  little  parlor.  But  the  maid,  thor 
oughly  drilled  by  Mrs.  Dreary  for  the  solemn  cere 
mony  of  "tending  the  door,"  followed  her  into  the 
room  and  thrusting  a  china  saucer  at  her,  demanded, 
"Tickets,  please!" 

"Tell  Miss  Dreary,  'Mrs.  Winthrop.'  I  have  no 
cards. ' ' 

327 


Barnabetta 

"While  she  waited,  she  occupied  herself  in  wonder 
ing  whether  it  had  been  possible  that  in  such  an  awful 
room  as  this,  her  brother  could  have  offered  to  marry 
the  girl?  Why,  she  would  have  been  perfectly  con 
fident  that  a  room  like  this  combined  with  that  equally 
awful  "brother  Jake,"  would  have  frozen  the  most 
ardent  love  of  which  Edgar  were  capable !  How  little 
one  could  count  on  the  mysterious  passion ! 

Barnabetta  glided  into  the  room  with  that  pecul 
iarly  charming  movement  that  was  characteristic  of 
her.  Mrs.  "Winthrop  feigned  not  to  see  her  out 
stretched  hand  as,  bowing  distantly,  she  turned  to  a 
chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  She  decided,  as 
Barnabetta  sat  down  before  her,  that  it  was  the  girl's 
mourning  which  lent  her  such  a  look  of  refinement — 
really  of  breeding  and  distinction,  strange  to  say! 
Her  manner,  too,  was,  to  Mrs.  Winthrop 's  surprise, 
perfectly  self-possessed ;  not  at  all  self-conscious.  She 
was  quiet,  waiting  for  her  visitor  to  state  her  errand. 
Apparently,  she  did  not  assume  this  to  be  a  social 
call.  And  suddenly,  something  about  the  girl,  some 
peculiar  quality  one  felt  in  her  presence,  made  Mrs. 
Winthrop,  to  her  own  astonishment,  feel,  for  the  first 
time,  an  embarrassment  in  what  she  was  going  to  do 
— a  rare  sensation  in  her  experience!  She  looked  at 
Barnabetta  uncertainly. 

"Miss  Dreary,"  she  at  last  began,  "to  be  perfectly 
frank  with  you,  I  have  come  here  to  interpose  in  my 
brother's  behalf." 

328 


Mrs.  Winthrop  and  Barnabetta 

Barnabetta  gazed  at  her  steadily,  though  her  face 
flushed.  She  waited  in  silence. 

"My  brother  is  most  unhappy,  Miss  Dreary." 

"I  hope,"  said  Barnabetta  sympathetically,  "he 
will  soon  get  over  that." 

"He  will  never  get  over  it — unless  you  save  him 
from  himself ! ' ' 

"I  am  afraid  I  can't  do  that.  It  is  asking  too 
much,  Mrs.  Winthrop — that  I  should  so  sacrifice  my 
self!" 

"Of  course  you  are  ambitious  to  do  the  best  for 
yourself — but  I  am  sure  you  will  be  as  wretchedly 
unhappy  as  he  will  be!" 

"But  I  am  not  unhappy — and  I  am  quite  sure  he 
will  not  be  after  a  while." 

"I  realize,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop  coldly,  "the  use- 
lessness  of  pleading  with  you  to  sacrifice  yourself  for 
his  good!" 

"Yes — it  is  useless." 

"You  are  remarkably  candid,  Miss  Dreary!" 

"It  seems  so  strange  that  you  should  expect  me  to 
sacrifice  myself  for  your  brother ! ' ' 

"I  don't  expect  it.  It  would  be  strange  for  me 
to  expect  it — and  I  am  not  a  fool.  I  appeal,  then, 
not  to  your  womanliness,  your  tenderness,  but  to  your 
ambition.  Don't  you  know  that  you  will  ruin  his 
career?" 

"Oh,  he  will  not  take  it  so  hard  as  that!" 

"It  will  ruin  him!  Don't  deceive  yourself.  Let 
329 


Barnabetta 

me  be  as  frank  as  you  are  and  tell  you  plainly  that 
none  of  his  family  would  ever  recognize  you ! ' ' 

Barnabetta  smiled.  "But  how,"  she  asked  inno 
cently,  ' '  can  their  resentment  affect  me  ?  I  have  lived 
nearly  twenty  years  without  the — 'recognition,'  did 
you  say? — of  the  Barrett  family.  So  I  think  I  shall 
be  able  to  worry  through." 

"What  is  more,"  Mrs.  Winthrop  resolutely  con 
tinued,  coloring  at  the  girl's  cool  effrontery,  "my 
brother  has  very  good  prospects  of  a  fine  diplomatic 
appointment — the  dream  of  his  life !  In  such  a  posi 
tion,  his  wife  should  be  a  woman  of  the  highest  social 
culture,  Miss  Dreary." 

"But,"  reasoned  Barnabetta,  looking  puzzled,  "if 
things  like  that  should  decide  a  man's  choice  of  a 
wife,  Miss  Jordan  would  make  a  far  better — diplo- 
matess,  is  it? — than  I  could  be." 

"Exactly.  Your  common  sense  must  recognize 
that.  And  in  standing  in  his  light,  don't  you  see 
that  you  stand  in  your  own? — that  he  will  come  to 
regret  bitterly  the  mistake  he  has  made? — that  you 
will  not  be  raised  to  his  level,  but  will  pull  him  down 
to  yours?" 

Barnabetta  gazed  at  her  as,  slowly,  the  comprehen 
sion  dawned  upon  her  that  they  were  both  laboring 
under  a  mistake.  Then,  after  a  moment,  she  spoke — 
deliberately,  distinctly. 

"I  think  your  brother  understands,  Mrs.  "Winthrop, 
that  I  am  quite  unwilling  to  be  dragged  down  to  his 

330 


Mrs.  Winthrop  and  Barnabetta 

level  and  that  I  could  not  hope  to  lift  him  to 
mine." 

It  was  Mrs.  Winthrop 's  turn,  now,  to  stare  in  per 
plexity.  "Miss  Dreary,"  she  abruptly  demanded, 
"has  my  brother  asked  you  to  marry  him?" 

"Hadn't  you  better  ask  him  that,  Mrs.  Win 
throp?" 

"Well,"  thought  Mrs.  Winthrop,  "she  's  certainly 
a  match  for  me!" 

"If  Dr.  Barrett  has  not  yet  asked  you  to  marry 
him,"  she  succinctly  affirmed,  "you  are  perfectly 
aware  that  he  means  to!" 

Barnabetta  did  not  reply. 

"And  I  have  come  here  to  point  out  to  you  that  in 
marrying  him,  you  will  gain  nothing  you  hope  for." 

"It  is  well,  then,  that  I  hope  for  nothing." 

"You  think  his  love  alone  will  satisfy  you?  But 
he  will  not  long  remain  satisfied  with  love  alone !  I 
know  him  as  you  do  not,  Miss  Dreary." 

"I  am  sure  you  do." 

' '  Then  be  warned  by  me — my  brother  will  not  make 
you  happy!" 

"If  I  loved  your  brother,  Mrs.  Winthrop,  it  would 
not  be  in  the  power  of  any  of  his  family  to  keep  me 
from  marrying  him." 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  are  determined  to 
marry  him?" 

"I  suppose  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  when  Dr. 
Barrett  asked  me  last  night  to  marry  him,  I  refused 

331 


Barnabetta 

him.  So,"  said  Barnabetta,  rising,  "there  is  no  use 
saying  anything  more." 

But  Mrs.  "Winthrop  kept  her  seat,  glaring  at  the 
girl  incredulously,  vindictively.  That  a  little  no 
body  like  this  should  have  the  audacity  to  stand  there 
and  say  she  had  refused  to  marry  Edgar  Barrett ! 

"Then  why,"  she  demanded,  "didn't  you  say  so 
in  the  beginning?" 

"I  thought  you  were  asking  me  to  take  back  my 
refusal  of  your  brother!" 

The  absurdity  of  her  mistake  suddenly  overwhelmed 
the  girl  and  she  laughed  helplessly. 

"You  thought  I  had  come  here  to  urge  you  to 
marry  my  brother?" 

"Yes,"  laughed  Barnabetta,  wiping  her  eyes, 
"when  you  had  really  come  to  warn  me  of  his  weak 
ness,  his  unfitness  for  marriage ! ' ' 

"You  actually  mean  that  you  did  refuse  him?" 
It  seemed  wholly  unbelievable.  "But  why,  in  the 
name  of  goodness?" 

"I  told  Mm  why." 

"You  are  engaged,  then,  to  Jordan!" 

The  vulgar  impertinence  of  the  woman  was  a  rev 
elation  to  Barnabetta  of  the  ways  of  what  her  step 
mother  called  "high  life."  She  ignored  the  remark. 

Mrs.  Winthrop  glared  for  a  moment  longer — then 
abruptly  she  also  rose. 

"Well!" — she  came  to  a  characteristically  impul 
sive  conclusion — "I  declare  I  must  say  I  can't  wonder 

332 


Mrs.  Winthrop  and  Barnabetta 

that  Edgar  is  crazy  about  you!  You  certainly  are 
a  little  trump !  I  'm  half  sorry  I  'm  not  going  to 
have  you  for  a  sister-in-law!" 

"I  'm  sorry  I  can't  say  the  regret  is  mutual,"  re 
plied  Barnabetta  with  a  quaint  primness. 

"Miss  Dreary,  may  I  ask  a  favor? — My  brother, 
you  know,  would  be  very  angry  if  he  learned  of  my 
having  come  here  like  this ! ' ' 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — he  told  me  pretty  much  the 
same  things  last  night  that  you  have  said  to  me  this 
morning — when  he  asked  me  to  marry  him." 

"Mercy!" 

"Yes,"  smiled  Barnabetta,  "he  really  did." 

"As  a  family,  you  must  think  us — well,  very  dis 
agreeable  ! ' ' 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Barnabetta  sympathetically, 
"you  can't  help  being  as  you  are." 

' '  You  pity  and  despise  us  ?  "Well,  we  shall  have  to 
try  to  bear  up  under  it." 

Mrs.  Winthrop  offered  her  hand.  "Good  morning, 
Miss  Dreary.  I  Ve  fallen  in  love  with  you  myself ! ' ' 

When,  a  little  while  later,  Barnabetta,  to  relieve  her 
feelings,  strolled  out  for  a  long  walk  in  the  woods, 
where  yesterday  morning  she  had  strolled  with  Edgar 
Barrett,  she  reflected  that  while  good  manners,  or 
rather  correct  manners,  were  confined  to  the  topmost 
social  stratum,  good  breeding  seemed  to  be  rather  a 
matter  of  temperament  and  of  character  than  of  class. 


333 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  PATE  OF  WOMAN 

SHE  had  taken  a  book  with  her,  and  when  David 
Jordan  discovered  her,  she  was  stretched  out  on 
the  grass  under  a  tree,  not  reading  the  open  vol 
ume  in  her  hands.  It  was  Carlyle's  Frederick  the 
Great. 

"I  thought  it  might  improve  my  mind,  but,"  she 
complained,  as  he  sat  down  beside  her,  looking  radiant 
at  having  found  her,  ''with  the  thermometer  at  its 
present  height,  I  can't  manage  to  take  in  more  than 
a  sentence  in  every  three  and  a  half  pages.  I  can 
easily  believe  all  those  stories  about  Carlyle's  abusing 
his  wife!  Any  man  that  could  write  in  such  large 
capitals!  Look  at  this  page!" — she  held  the  book 
open  at  a  page  very  generously  strewn  with  the  of 
fending  big  type.  "Think  of  the  state  of  mind  that 
could  make  a  page  like  that!  It  's  dangerous.  / 
should  be  afraid  to  be  married  to  it!" 

He  laughed,  took  the  book  from  her  and  tossed  it 
away.  "Glorious  old  Scotchman! — but  we  don't 
want  anything  to  do  with  him  this  hot  summer's  day, 
do  we?" 

"He  reduces  me  to  pulp!"  she  sighed.  "I  shall 
334 


The  Fate  of  Woman 

struggle  no  longer  to  be  great!  At  least  not  while 
the  thermometer  is  three  hundred  and  sixty  degrees 
in  the  shade ! ' ' 

"No,  don't  struggle  to  be  great — talk  to  me.  I 
followed  you  here,"  he  stated  superfluously. 

"And  I  was  wondering  how  we  both  happened  to 
come  to  this  woods  this  morning,"  she  said  quite  in 
sincerely. 

' '  Such  odd  and  happy  coincidences  are  usually  pre 
arranged — like  Mark  Twain's  'impromptu'  speeches. 
I  had  to  see  you  this  morning — I  always  have  to  see 
you,  you  know,  to  revive  my  faith  in  humanity  after 
I  Ve  dined  formally  with  a  party  of  our  leading  citi 
zens  of  Middleton! — As  I  did  last  night.  The  Bar 
retts  had  the  courage  to  stay  away.  Very  risky! 
Their  absence  was  not  favorably  received!" 

"But  the  Barretts'  objections  to  the  Middleton 
dinner-parties  would  not  be  the  same  as  yours,  would 
they?"  Barnabetta  asked. 

' ' No.  Their  objections  are — snobbish ;  mine,  moral ; 
the  veneer  that  encrusts  the  real  self  of  the  average 
highly-esteemed  American  in  a  town  like  this,  makes 
dinner-talk  (to  put  it  mildly)  difficult!  I  often  won 
der  what  would  happen  if,  at  one  of  their  genteel 
gatherings,  I  came  right  out  with  my  true  opinions 
about  anything  at  all!  It  would  crack  the  dishes,  I 
dare  say!  In  communities  like  this,  strewn  all  over 
our  broad  map,  nobody  is  ever  known  to  think  below 
the  surface.  They  don't  want  to.  They  haven't 

335 


Barnabetta 

time.  Most  people  can't  see  a  truth  until  it  's  uni 
versal  property.  An  unfamiliar  truth  is  resented  as 
heresy — merely  because  of  its  unfamiliarity.  Big 
movements,  in  their  incipiency,  are  always  looked 
upon  as  ridiculous;  as  were  "Woman  Suffrage,  So 
cialism,  Christianity  itself!  Do  you  know  what  you 
are  to  me,  little  woman?  I  realized  what,  last  night 
as  I  sat  among  those  Philistines,  longing  for  you  as  a 
thirsty  man  longs  for  a  spring !  You  are  my  safety- 
valve,  my  comrade!  What  troubles  me,  though, 
is—" 

He  paused,  and  she  looked  up  inquiringly.  "Don't 
stop — I  'm  so  interested,"  she  remarked. 

"I  've  been  thinking  of  a  name  for  you — my  name 
for  you.  I  can't  call  you  by  that  ponderous  name 
with  which  your  baptism  afflicted  you.  And  I  refuse 
to  address  you  longer  as  '  Miss  Dreary, '  since  you  are 
the  only  acquaintance  I  have  who  is  n't  dreary.  To 
me  you  are  to  be — Betty.  It's  a  quaint,  winsome 
name — it  's  just  you!  May  I?" 

"If  you  like  to.  But  it  is  n't  my  'ponderous'  name 
that  you  were  going  to  say  'troubled'  you?" 

"No.  Look  here,  Betty!  There  must  be  some 
thing  of  reciprocity  in  a  real  comradeship.  Now  I 
know  what  you  are  to  me — but  what  troubles  me  is, 
am  I  anything  at  all  to  you?" 

Her  reply  was  unhesitating  and  from  her  heart. 
"You  are  to  me  the  truest  man  I  have  ever  known 
— the  only  true  one." 

336 


The  Fate  of  Woman 

"If  you  'd  had  a  larger  acquaintance,  I  might  take 
comfort  from  that.  But  Barrett  and  I,  I  believe, 
make  up  the  list?" 

"No  matter  how  long  the  list,  probably  you  would 
still  be  the  one  true  man  among  them.  I  've  learned 
how  scarce  true  men  are!" 

"Betty,  are  you  happy?" 

"I  doubt,"  she  slowly  answered,  "whether  people 
are  ever  very  happy  when  circumstances  or  disposi 
tion  forces  them  to  take  life  seriously.  And  yet,  why 
shouldn't  we  be  happy?  I  will  be  happy!  I  like 
the  world;  there  are  books,  people,  flowers,  children, 
poetry,  music,  pictures!  How  can  we  not  find  hap 
piness  in  such  a  lovely  world?  I  didn't  always  feel 
so,  but  I  do  now." 

"You  do  have  a  way  of  taking  Don  Quixotic  leaps, 
don't  you?  It  's  an  exciting  game  to  keep  up  with 
you,  Betty!" 

"Well,  just  now,  I  'm  at  the  pass  of  hating  hum 
drum.  Now  that  I  've  done  with  college,  I  want  to 
be  a  vagabond  and  'roam  at  large  o'er  all  this  scene 
of  man.'  " 

"And  I,  Betty,  have  always  been  a  vagabond  at 
heart!  So  you  see  we  are  mates — by  the  ruling  of 
the  gods!  Would  that  I  dared  to  hope  you  would 
consent  to  '  roam  at  large '  with  me ! " 

The  color  deepened  in  Barnabetta's  cheeks  and  her 
eyes  were  softly  bright  as  they  rested  on  the  big  man 
at  her  side — big,  she  felt,  in  so  many  ways;  in  his 

337 


Barnabetta 

simplicity;  in  his  humanity;  in  his  abundant  kind 
ness;  in  his  fidelity  to  himself;  in  his  courage. 

"I  have  so  little  to  offer  you,  Betty!  A  common 
place,  middle-aged,  clumsy  elephant! — while  you, 
dear,  are  so  brilliant,  so  beautiful,  so — " 

She  laughed  involuntarily.  ' '  Oh,  no,  I  'm  not 
beautiful!  Please,"  she  earnestly  urged,  "don't  be 
so  deceived  in  me!" 

"Aren't  you,  Betty?  I  suppose  I  must  take  your 
word  for  it,  but  to  me  you  are  altogether  lovely! — • 
I  love  your  straight  brown  hair,  your  hands  that  seem, 
somehow,  to  express  you,  your  voice,  your  sincere 
eyes,  the  sweetness  of  your  lips ! — And  I  love  the  mind 
and  the  heart  of  you!  You  are  the  only  woman  I 
have  ever  known  with  whom  I  am  absolutely  at  home! 
Could  you  care  for  a  ridiculous  old  fellow  like  me 
who—" 

"Take  care — if  it  's  my  future  husband  you  are 
describing!  I  'm  easily  affronted!" 

" — who  has  nothing  to  offer  you,  dear  Betty,  but 
his  utter  devotion!" 

"May  I  ask  you  a  few  questions?"  she  gently  in 
quired. 

"I  '11  try  to  answer  them." 

"First,  then,  have  you  'struggled  long  and  hard 
against  this  overwhelming  love '  ? " 

' '  Only  a  few  feeble  kicks — because  I  felt  it  was  n  't 
fair  to  ask  a  radiant  young  girl  like  you  to  throw 
herself  away  on  an  old — " 

338 


The  Fate  of  Woman 

"Now!"  she  stopped  him.  "Second  question — the 
'  differences '  between  us — your  rearing  and  mine — are 
you  sure  you  'recognize'  them?  You  know  that  my 
father  was  a  tinsmith  and  that  my  brother  is  a  stage- 
driver?" 

"You  have  mentioned  it.  What  has  that  got  to  do 
with  you  and  me  and  our  love — if  you  do  love  me, 
Betty?" 

"Third — you  have  a  deep  sense,  have  you,  of  all 
that  you  will  have  to  give  up  in  marrying  me  ? " 

"I  have  a  sense  of  unworthiness  in  the  thought 
of  all  I  shall  gain — if  you  do  stoop  to  me,  fair 
lady!" 

"I  shall  not  'stand  in  your  light,'  'ruin  your  ca 
reer'?" 

He  suddenly  took  her  chin  in  his  hand  and  tilted  up 
her  face. 

"It  sounds  damnably  like  the  Barretts !  Have  they 
been  at  you?" 

"Yes,  they  have  been  'at'  me!" 

"The  whole  effete  Barrett  tribe  isn't  worth  you 
— you  true,  wholesome,  beautiful  young  thing!  A 
pair  of  snobs,  I  've  always  thought  them!" 

"Snobs?    What  are  snobs?" 

"People  who  substitute  false  values  for  real  ones, 
Betty.  A  very  persistent  tendency,  I  've  noticed,  of 
petty  minds. ' ' 

She  considered  it  thoughtfully.  "Yes,"  she  said 
at  length,  "I  believe,  then,  they  are  snobs." 

339 


Barnabetta 

"I  'm  glad  you  know  it!  But  don't  let  us  waste 
time  talking  about  them! — Betty!" 

"What?" 

"I  love  you  and  I  want,  more  than  I  ever  wanted 
anything  in  this  world,  to  have  you  for  my  mate. 
Will  you  take  me,  Betty?" 

"Yes." 

He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looked  into 
her  face.  "You  will?" 

"Yes,  I  will,"  she  answered,  her  eyes  meeting  his 
with  solemn  earnestness. 

"You  love  me?" 

"Yes— I  love  you." 

"You  are  sure  that  you  know  what  love  is?" 

"I  didn't  know  until  I  knew  you.     I  know  now." 

"I  believe  you  do,  Betty!" 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"But  you  don't  know  all  that  it  can  mean!" — His 
voice  trembled  as  he  took  her  into  his  arms. — "We 
shall  spend  the  rest  of  our  lives  in  discovering  that!" 


THE  END 


340 


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